3  1822  01071   2743 


HMjgiBI^^Bi^BB 

^mmMf^il^:^ 

lypl^u^M 

InH^BiHI : 


R.  G.  ROSE. 


presented  to  the 

LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  •  SAN  DIF.GO 

by 
FRIENDS  OF  11  IF.  LIBRARY 


MR.    JOHN  C.    HO? 

donor 


/ 


FUN-JOTTINGS. 


FUN-JOTTINGS; 


OB, 


LAUGHS  I  HAVE  TAKEN  A  PEN  TO, 


BY 


N.  PARKER  WILLIS 


NEW  YORK: 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER,  145  NASSAU  STREET. 
1853. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by 

CHAKLES    SCK1BNEK, 

In  tbe  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United   States  for    the  Southern  Dis 
trict  of  New  York. 


PREFACE. 


WE  do  not  expect  the  world  to  receive  our  smiles  with 
the  instant  sympathy  and  trust  which  we  expect  for  our 
tears.  A  smile  may  pardonably  be  thought  a  caprice  of 
one's  own.  We  write,  therefore,  with  correspondent 
carelessness  or.  digressiveness,  upon  incidents  that,  in 
passing,  have  merely  amused  us — quite  prepared  to  find 
that  they  are  not  so  amusing  (at  second-hand)  to  others. 

It  would  be  startling  to  the  reader,  sometimes,  to  know 
Low  much'  truth  there  is  in  "  fiction."  Things  that  could 
never  else  be  told,  are  hidden  in  story.  And  every  cir 
cumstance  of  the  narrative  may  be  pure  invention, 
while  the  secret  is  still  told — the  soul's  thirst  for  reveal 
ing  it,  fully  satisfied.  After  reading  a  novel  once,  for 
the  story,  it  is  often  a  charming,  leisure  task  to  go  over 
it  thoughtfully,  again,  picking  out  the  hidden  thread  of 
feeling  or  experience,  upon  which  its  pearls  are  strung. 
To  value  or  merit  in  the  sketches  which  follow,  the 
author  makes  no  definite  pretension.  They  record,  under 


Vi  PREFACE. 

more  or  less  of  disguise,  turns  of  event  or  of  character, 
which  have  amused  him.  In  re-compiling  his  past 
writings  into  volumes,  these  lighter  ones  have  been  laid 
aside,  and  they  are  now  trusted  to  take  their  chance  by 
themselves,  appealing  to  whatever  indulgence  may  be  in 
store,  in  the  reader's  mind,  for  a  working-pen  at  play. 

IDLEWILD,  July,  1853. 


CONTENTS, 

PAQR 

LARKS  IN  VACATION,  .  .  .  .11 

MEENA  DIMITY  ;  OR,  WHY  MR.  BROWN  CRASH  TOOK  THE 

TOUR,  ...  •'•.  '  .  .  45 

MRS.  PASSABLE  TROTT,  .  .  .  .55 

THE  SPIRIT-LOVE  OF  "  IONE  S "  .  .  62 

THE  GHOST  BALL  AT  CONGRESS  HALL,  .  .  72 

PASQUALI,  THE  TAILOR  OF  VENICE,  .  .  84 

THE  WIDOW  BY  BREVET,  .  .  .  .  97 

NORA  MEHIDY  ;  OR,  THE  STRANGE  ROAD  TO  THE  HEART  OF 

MR.  HYPOLET  LEATHERS,  .  .  .  114 

THE  MARQUIS  IN  PETTICOATS,  .  .  .123 

TOM  FANE  AND  I,  ....  135 


CONTENTS. 

PAGV 

THE  POET  AND  THE  MANDARIN,         .  .            .152 

THE   COUNTESS   OF   NYSCHRIEM,   AND  THE   HANDSOME 

AKTIST,         .            .            .  .            .          166 

THE  INLET  OF  PEACH-BLOSSOMS,         .  .            .116 
THE  BELLE  OF  THE  BELFRY  ;  OR  THE  DARING  LOVER,       190 

THE  FEMALE  WARD,         .            .  .            .201 

THE  PHARISEE  AND  THE  BARBER,         .  .            .     220 

MABEL  WYNNE,  .            .            .  .            .          230 

THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA,        .  .            .     244 

MY  ONE  ADVENTURE  AS  A  BRIGAND,  .            .           294 
COUNT  POTT'S  STRATEGY,      ....     303 

THE  POWER  OF  AN  "INJURED  LOOK,"  ..            .          314 

MRS.  FLIMSON,           .            .            .  .            .326 

FROM  SARATOGA. 

To  THE  JULIA  OF  SOME  YEARS  AGO,            .    •  .          329 

To  Miss  VIOLET  MABY,  AT  SARATOGA,            .  .     333 

ANOTHER  LETTER  FROM  THE  SAME  GENTLEMAN,  .           337 

CINNA  BEVERLEY,  ESQ.,  TO  ALEXIS  YON  PUHL,  .     340 


CONTENTS. 

PAOl 

SOCIAL  DISTINCTIONS  IN  ENGLAND,         .  .  344 

Miss  ALBINA  McLusn,         ....     352 
THE  NEED  OF  Two  LOVES,         .  .  .          357 


FUN    JOTTINGS 


LARKS  IN  VACATION. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DRIVING    STANHOPE    PRO    TEM. 

IN  the  edge  of  a  June  evening  in  the  summer  vacation  of  1827, 
I  was  set  down  by  the  coach  at  the  gate  of  my  friend  Horace  Van 
Pelt's  paternal  mansion — a  large,  old-fashioned,  comfortable 
Dutch  house,  clinging  to  the  side  of  one  of  the  most  romantic 
dells  on  the  North  river.  In  the  absence  of  his  whole  family  on 
the  summer  excursion  to  the  falls  and  lakes  (taken  by  almost 
every  "  well-to-do"  citizen  of  the  United  States),  Horace  was 
emperor  of  the  long-descended,  and  as  progressively  enriched 
domain  of  one  of  the  earliest  Dutch  settlers — a  brief  authority 
which  he  exercised  more  particularly  over  an  extensive  stud,  and 
bins  number  one  and  two. 

The  west  was  piled  with  gold  castles,  breaking  up  the  horizon 
with  their  burnished  pinnacles  and  turrets,  the  fragrant  damp- 


12  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


ness  of  the  thunder-shower  that  had  followed  the  heat  of  noon 
was  in  the  air,  and  in  a  low  room,  whose  floor  opened  out  so  exactly 
upon  the  shaven  sward,  that  a  hlind  man  would  not  have  known 
when  he  passed  from  the  heavily-piled  carpet  to  the  grass,  I 
found  Horace  sitting  over  his  olives  and  claret,  having  waited 
dinner  for  me  till  five  (long  beyond  *the  latest  American  hour)* 
and  in  despair  of  my  arrival,  having  dined  without  me.  The  old 
black  cook  was  too  happy  to  vary  her  vocation  by  getting  a 
second  dinner ;  and  when  I  had  appeased  my  appetite,  and  over 
taken  my  friend  in  his  claret,  we  sat  with  the  moonlight  breaking 
across  a  vine  at  our  feet,  and  coffee  worthy  of  a  filagree  cup  in 
the  Bezestien,  and  debated,  amid  a  true  embarras  des  richesses, 
our  plans  for  the  next  week's  amusement. 

The  seven  days  wore  on,  merrily  at  first,  but  each  succeeding 
one  growing  less  merry  than  the  last.  By  the  fifth  eve  of  my 
sojourn,  we  had  exhausted  variety.  All  sorts  of  headaches  and 
megrims  in  the  morning,  all  sorts  of  birds,  beasts,  and  fishes,  for 
dinner,  all  sorts  of  accidents  in  all  sorts  of  vehicles,  left  us  on  the 
seventh  day  out  of  sorts  altogether.  We  were  two  discontented 
Rasselases  in  the  Happy  Valley.  Rejoicing  as  Ve  were  in  vaca 
tion,  it  .would  have  been  a  relief  to  have  had  a  recitation  to  read 
up,  or  a  prayer-bell  to  mark  the  time.  Two  idle  sophomores  in 
a  rambling,  lonely  old*  mansion,  were,  we  discovered,  a  very 
insufficient  dramatis  persona  for  the  scene. 

It  was  Saturday  night.  A  violent  clap  of  thunder  had  inter 
rupted  some  daring  theory  of  Van  Pelt's  on  the  rising  of  cham 
pagne-bubbles,  and  there  we  sat,  mum  and  melancholy,  two  sated 
Sybarites,  silent  an  hour  by  the  clock.  The  mahogany  was  bare 
between  us.  Any  number  of  glasses  and  bottles  stood  in  their 
lees  about  the  table  ;  the  thrice-fished  juice  of  an  olive-dish  and 


LARKS  IN  VACATION.  13 


a  solitary  cigar  in  a  silver  case  had  been  thrust  aside  in  a  warm 
argument,  and,  in  his  father's  sacred  gout-chair,  buried  to  the 
eyes  in  his  loosened  cravat,  one  leg  on  the  table,  and  one  some 
where  in  the  neighborhood  of  my  own,  sat  Van  Pelt,  the  eidolon 
of  exhausted  amusement. 

"  Phil !"  said  he,  starting  suddenly  to  an  erect  position,  "  a 
thought  strikes  me !" 

I  dropped  the  claret-cork,  from  which  I  was  at  the  moment 
trying  to  efface  the  "  Margaux"  brand,  and  sat  in  silent  expecta 
tion.  I  had  thought  his  brains  as  well  evaporated  as  the  last 
bottle  of  champagne. 

He  rested  his  elbows  on  the  table,  and  set  his  chin  between  his 
two  palms. 

"  I'll  resign  the  keys  of  this  mournful  old  den  to  the  butler,  and 
we'll  go  to  Saratoga  for  a  week.  What  say  ?" 

"  It  would  be  a  reprieve  from  death  by  inanition,"  I  answered, 
''  but,  as  the  rhetorical  professor  would  phrase  it,  amplify  your 
meaning,  young  gentleman." 

"  Thus  :  To-morrow  is  Sunday.  "We  will  sleep  till  Monday 
morning  to  purge  our  brains  of  these  cloudy  vapors,  and  restore 
the  freshness  of  our  complexions.  If  a  fair  day,  you  shall  start 
alone  in  the  stanhope,  and  on  Monday  night  sleep  in  classic 
quarters  at  Titus's  in  Troy." 

"  And  you,"  I  interrupted,  rather  astonished  at  his  arrangement 
for  one. 

Horace  laid  his  hand  on  his  pocket  with  a  look  of  embarrassed 
care. 

"  I  will  overtake  you  with  the  bay  colts  in  the  drosky,  but  1 
rnu^t  first  go  to  Albany.  The  circulating  medium — " 

"  I  understand." 


14  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


II. 

We  met  on  Monday  morning  in  the  breakfast-room  in  mutua* 
spirits.  The  sun  was  two  hours  high,  the  birds  in  the  trees  werq 
wild  with  the  beauty  and  elasticity  of  the  day,  the  dew  glistened 
on  every  bough,  and  the  whole  scene,  over  river  and  hill,  was  a 
heaven  of  natural  delight.  As  we  finished  our  breakfast,  the 
light  spattering  of  a  horse's  feet  up  the  avenue,  and  the  airy 
whirl  of  quick-following  wheels,  announced  the  stanhope.  It  was 
in  beautiful  order,  and  what  would  have  been  termed  on  any  pave 
in  the  world  a  tasteful  turn-out.  Light  cream-colorod  body,  black 
wheels  and  shafts,  drab  lining  edged  with  green,  dead-black  harness, 
light  as  that  on  the  panthers  of  Bacchus — it  was  the  last  style  of 
thing  you  would  have  looked  for  at  the  "  stoup"  of  a  Dutch  home 
stead.  And  Tempest !  I  think  I  see  him  now  ! — his  small  inqui 
sitive  ears,  arched  neck,  eager  eye,  and  fine,  thin  nostril — his 
dainty  feet  flung  out  with  the  grace  of  a  flaunted  riband — his 
true  and  majestic  action  and  his  spirited  champ  of  the  bit,  nib 
bling  at  the  tight  rein  with  the  exciting  pull  of  a  hooked  trout — 
how  evenly  he  drew  !— - how  insensibly  the  compact  stanhope,  just 
touching  his  iron-gray  tail,  bowled  along  on  the  road  after  him  ! 

Horace  was  behind  with  the  drosky  and  black  boy,  and  with  a 
parting  nod  at  the  gate,  I  turned  northward,  and  Tempest  took 
the  road  in  beautiful  style.  I  do  not  remember  to  have  been  ever 
so  elated.  I  was  always  of  the-  Cyrenaic  philosophy  that  "  happi 
ness  is  motion,"  and  the  bland  vitality  of  the  air  had  refined  my 
senses.  The  delightful  feel  of  the  reins  thrilled  me  to  the 
shoulder.  Driving  is  like  any  other  appetite,  dependant  for  the 
delicacy  of  its  enjoyment  on  the  system,  and  a  day's  temperate 
abstinence,  long  sleep,  and  the  glorions  perfection  of  the  morning, 


LARKS  IN  VACATION.  15 


had  put  my  nerves  "  in  condition."  I  felt  the  air  as  I  rushed 
through.  The  power  of  the  horse  was  added  to  my  consciousness 
of  enjoyment,  and  if  you  can  imagine  a  centaur  with  a  harness 
and  stanhope  added  to  his  living  body,  I  felt  the  triple  enjoyment 
of  animal  exercise  which  would  then  be  his. 

It  is  delightful  driving  on  the  Hudson.  The  road  is  very  fair 
beneath  your  wheels,  the  river  courses  away  under  the  bold  shore 
with  the  majesty  inseparable  from  its  mighty  flood,  and  the 
constant  change  of  outline  in  its  banks,  gives  you,  as  you  proceed, 
a  constant  variety  of  pictures,  from  the  loveliest  to  the  most 
sublime.  The  eagle's  nest  above  you  at  one  moment,  a  sunny 
and  fertile  farm  below  you  at  the  next — rocks,  trees,  and  water 
falls,  wedded  and  clustered  as,  it  seems  to  me,  they  are  nowhere 
else  done  so  picturesquely — it  is  a  noble  river,  the  Hudson ! 
And  every  few  minutes,  while  you  gaze  down  upon  the  broad 
waters  spreading  from  hill  to  hill  like  a  round  lake,  a  gnyly- 
painted  steamer  with  her  fringed  and  white  awnings  and  streaming 
flag,  shoots  out  as  if  from  a  sudden  cleft  in  the  rock,  and  draws 
across  it  her  track  of  foam. 

Well — I  bowled  along.  Ten  o'clock  brought  me  to  a  snug 
Dutch  tavern,  where  I  sponged  Tempest's  mouth  and  nostrils, 
lunched,  and  was  stared  at  by  the  natives,  and  continuing  my 
journey,  at  one  I  loosed  rein  and  dashed  into  the  pretty  village 

of ,  Tempest  in  a  foam,  and  himself  and  his  extempore 

master  creating  a  great  sensation  in  a  crowd  of  people,  who  stood 
in  the  shade  of  the  verandah  of  the  hotel,  as  if  that  asylum  for 
the  weary  traveller  had  been  a  shop  for  the  sale  of  gentlemen  in 
shirt-sleeves. 

Tempest  was  taken  round  to  the  "  barn,"  and  I  ordered  rather 
an  elaborate  dinner,  designing  still  to  go  on  some  ten  miles  in  the 


16  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


cool  of  the  evening,  and  having,  of  course,  some  mortal  hours 
upon  my  hands.  The  cook  had  probably  never  heard  of  more 
than  three  dishes  in  her  life,  but  those  three  were  garnished  with 
all  manner  of  herbs,  and  sent  up  in  the  best  china  as  a  warranty 
for  an  unusual  bill,  and  what  with  coffee,  a  small  glass  of  new 
rum  as  an  apology  for  a  chasse  cafe,  and  a  nap  in  a  straight- 
backed  chair,  I  killed  the  enemy  to  my  satisfaction  till  thei 
shadows  of  the  poplars  lengthened  across  the  barnyard. 

I  was  awoke  by  Tempest,  prancing  round  to  the  door  in  un- 
diminished  spirits  ;  and  as  I  had  begun  the  day  en  grand  seigaeitJ^ 
I  did  not  object  to  the  bill,  which  considerably  exceeded  the  oufc- 
side  of  my  calculation,  but  giving  the  landlord  a  twenty-dollar 
note  received  the  change  unquestioned,  doubled  the  usual  fee  to 
the  ostler,  and  let  Tempest  off  with  a  bend  forward  which  served 
at  the  same  time  for  a  gracious  bow  to  the  spectators.  So 
remarkable  a  coxcomb  had  probably  not  been  seen  in  the  village 
since  the  passing  of  Cornwallis's  army. 

The  day  was  still  hot,  and  as  I  got  into  the  open  country,  I 
drew  rein  and  paced  quietly  up  hill  and  down,  picking  the  road 
delicately,  and  in  a  humor  of  thoughtful  contentment,  trying  my 
skill  in  keeping  the  edges  of  the  green  sod  as  it  leaned  in  and  out 
from  the  walls  and  ditches.  With  the  long  whip  I  now  and  then 
touched  the  wing  of  a  sulphur  butterfly  hovering  over  a  pool,  and 
now  and  then  I  stopped  and  gathered  a  violet  from  the  unsunned 
edge  of  tho  wood. 

I  had  proceeded  three  or  four  miles  in  this  way,  when  I  was 
overtaken  by  three  stout  fellows,  galloping  at  speed,  who  rode 
past  and  faced  round  with  a  peremptory  order  to  me  to  stop.  A 
formidable  pitchfork  in  the  hand  of  each  horseman  left  me  no 
alternative.  I  made  up  my  mind  immediately  to  be  robbed 


LARKS  IN  VACATION.  17 


quietly  of  my  own  personals,  but  to  show  fight,  if  necessary,  for 
Tempest  and  the  stanhope. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  I,  coaxing  my  impatient  horse,  who 
had  been  rather  excited  by  the  clatter  of  hoofs  behind  him,  "  what 
is  the  meaning  of  this  ?" 

Before  I  could  get  an  answer,  one  of  the  fellows  had  dismount 
ed  and  given  his  bridle  to  another,  and  coming  round  to  the  left 
eide,  he  sprang  suddenly  into  the  stanhope.  I  received  him  as 
he  rose  with  a  well-placed  thrust  of  my  heel  which  sent  him  back 
into  the  road,  and  with  a  chirrup  to  Tempest,  I  dashed  through 
the  phalanx,  and  took  the  road  at  a  top  speed.  The  short  lash 
once  waved  round  the  small  ears  before  me,  there  was  no  stopping 
in  a  hurry,  and  away  sped  the  gallant  gray,  and  fast  behind 
followed  my  friends  in  their  short  sleeves,  all  in  a  lathering 
gallop.  A  couple  of  miles  was  the  work  of  no  time,  Tempest 
kying  his  legs  to  it  as  if  the  stanhope  had  been  a  cobweb  at  his 
heels ;  but  at  the  end  of  that  distance  there  came  a  sharp  descent 
to  a  mill-stream,  and  I  just  remember  an  unavoidable  milestone 
and  a  jerk  over  a  wall,  and  the  next  minute,  it  seemed  to  me,  I 
was  in  the  room  where  I  had  dined,  with  my  hands  tied,  and  a 
hundred  people  about  me.  My  cool  white  waistcoat  was  matted 
with  mud,  and  my  left  temple  was,  by  the  glass  opposite  me,  both 
bloody  and  begrimed. 

The  opening  of  my  eyes  was  a  signal  for  a  closer  gathering 
around  me,  and  between  exhaustion  and  the  close  air  I  was  half 
suffocated.  I  was  soon  made  to  understand  that  I  was  a  prisoner, 
and  that  the  three  white-frocked  highwaymen,  as  I  took  them  to 
be,  were  among  the  spectators.  On  a  polite  application  to  the 
landlord,  who,  I  found  out,  was  a  justice  of  the  peace  as  well,  I  was 
informed  that  he  had  made  out  my  mittimus  as  a  counterfeiter, 


18  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


and  that  the  spurious  note  I  had  passed  upon  him  for  my  dinner 
was  safe  in  his  possession  !  He  pointed  at  the  same  time  to  a 
placard  newly  stuck  against  the  wall,  offering  a  reward  for  the 
apprehension  of  a  notorious  practiser  of  my  supposed  craft,  to  the 
description  of  whose  person  I  answered,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all 
present. 

Quite  too  indignant  to  remonstrate,  I  seated  myself  in  the  chair 
considerately  offered  me  by  the  waiter,  and  listening  to  the  whis 
pers  of  the  persons  who  were  still  permitted  to  throng  the  room, 
I  discovered,  what  might  have  struck  me  before,  that  the  initials 
on  the  panel  of  the  stanhope  and  the  handle  of  the  whip  had  been 
compared  with  the  card  pasted  in  the  bottom  of  my  hat,  and  the 
want  of  correspondence  was  taken  as  decided  corroboration.  It 
was  remarked  also  by  a  bystander  that  I  was  quite  too  much  of 
a  dash  for  an  honest  man,  and  that  he  had  suspected  me  from 
first  seeing  me  drive  into  the  village  !  I  was  sufficiently  humbled 
by  this  time  to  make  an  inward  vow  never  again  to  take  airs 
upon  myself  if  I  escaped  the  county  jail. 

The  justice  meanwhile  had  made  out  ray  orders,  and  a  horse 
and  cart  had  been  provided  to  take  me  to  the  next  town.  I 
endeavored  to  get  speech  of  his  worship  as  I  was  marched  out  of 
the  inn  parlor,  but  the  crowd  pressed  close  upon  my  heels  and 
the  dignitary-landlord  seemed  anxious  to  rid  his  house  of  me.  I 
'had  no  papers,  and  no  proofs  of  my  character,  and  assertion  went 
for  nothing.  Besides,  I  was  muddy,  and  my  hat  was  broken  in 
on  one  side,  proofs  of  villany  which  appeal  to  the  commonest 
understanding. 

I  begged  for  a  little  straw  in  the  bottom  of  the  cart,  and  had 
made  myself  as  comfortable  as  my  two  rustic  constables  thought 
fitting  for  a  culprit,  when  the  vehicle  was  quickly  ordered  from 


LARKS  IN  VACATION.  19 

the  door  to  make  way  for  a  carriage  coming  at  a  dashing  pace  up 
the  road.     It  was  Van  Pelt  in  his  drosky. 

Horace  was  well  known  on  the  road,  and  the  stanhope  had 
already  been  recognized  as  his.  By  this  time  it  was  deep  in  the 
twilight,  and  though  he  was  instantly  known  by  the  landlord,  he 
might  be  excused  for  not  so  readily  identifying  the  person  of  his 
friend  in  the  damaged  gentleman  in  the  straw. 

"  Ay,  ay  !  I  see  you  don't  know  him,"  said  the  landlord,  white 
Van  Pelt  surveyed  me  rather  coldly;  "  on  with  him,  constables.! 
he  would  have  us  believe  you  knew  him,  sir  !  Walk  in,  Mr.  Vau 
Pelt !  Ostler,  look  to  Mr.  Van  Pelt's  horses  !  Walk  in,  sir  !" 

"  Stop  !"  I  cried  out  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  seeing  that  Horace 
really  had  not  looked  at  me.  "  Van  Pelt  !  stop,  I  say  !" 

The  driver  of  the  cart  seemed  more  impressed  by  the  energy 
of  my  cries  than  my  friends  the  constables,  and  pulled  up  his 
horse.  Some  one  in  the  crowd  cried  out  that  I  should  have  a 
hearing  or  he  would  "  wallup  the  comitatus,"  and  the  justice, 
called  back  by  this  expression  of  an  opinion  from  the  sovereign 
people,  requested  his  new  guest  to  look  at  the  prisoner. 

I  was  preparing  to  have  nly  hands  untied,  yet  feeling  so 
indignant  at  Van  Pelt  for  not  having  recognized  me  that  I  would 
not  look  at  him,  when,  to  my  surprise,  the  horse  started  off  once 
more,  and  looking  back,  I  saw  my  friend  patting  the  neck  of  his 
near  horse,  evidently  not  having  thought  it  worth  his  while  to 
take  any  notice  of  the  justice's  observation.  Choking  with  rage, 
I  flung  myself  down  upon  the  straw,  and  jolted  on  without  further 
remonstrance  to  the  county  town. 

I  had  been  incarcerated  an  hour,  when  Van  Pelt's  voice, 
half  angry  with  the  turnkey  and  half  ready  to  burst  into  a  laugh, 
resounded  outside.  He  had  not  heard  a  word  spoken  by  the 


20  FUN.  JOTTINGS. 

officious  landlord,  till  after  the  cart  had  been  some  time  gone. 
Even  then,  believing  it  to  be  a  cock-and-bull  story,  he  had 
quietly  dined,  and  it  was  only  on  going  into  the  yard  to  see  after 
his  horses  that  he  recognized  the  debris  of  his  stanhope. 

The  landlord's  apologies,  when  we  returned  to  the  inn,  were 
more  amusing  to  Van  Pelt  than  consolatory  to  Philip  Slingsby. 


CHAPTER  n. 

SARATOGA     SPRINGS. 

IT  was  about  seven  o'clock  of  a  hot  evening  when  Van  Pelt's 
exhausted  horses  toiled  out  from  the  Pine  Forest,  and  stood,  fet 
lock  deep  in  sand,  on  the  brow  of  the  small  hill  overlooking  the 
mushroom  village  of  Saratoga.  One  or  two  straggling  horsemen 
were  returning  late  from  their  afternoon  ride,  and  looked  at  us, 
as  they  passed  on  their  fresher'hacks,  with  the  curiosity  which 
attaches  to  new-comers  in  a  watering-place  ;  here  and  there  a 
genuine  invalid,  who  had  come  to  the  waters  for  life,  not  for 
pleasure,  took  advantage  of  the  coolness  of  the  hour  and  crept 
down  the  footpath  to  the  Spring ;  and  as  Horace  encouraged  his 
flagging  cattle  into  a  trot  to  bring  up  gallantly  at  the  door  of 
"  Congress  Hall,"  the  great  bell  of  that  vast  caravanserai 
resounded  through  the  dusty  air,  and  by  the  shuffling  of  a  thou 
sand  feet,  audible  as  we  approached,  we  knew  that  the  fashion 
able  world  of  Saratoga  were  rushing  down,  en  masse,  "  to  tea." 

Having  driven  through  a  sand-cloud  for  the  preceding  three 


LAEKS  IN  VACATION.  21 


hours,  and,  to  say  nothing  of  myself,  Van  Pelt  being  a  man, 
who,  in  his  character  as  the  most  considerable  beau  of  the 
University,  calculated  his  first  impression, at  was  not  thought 
advisable  to  encounter,  uncleansed,  the  tide  of  fashion  at  that 
moment  streaming  through  the  hall.  We  drove  round  to  the 
side-door,  and  gained  our  pigeon-hole  quarters  under  cover  of  the 
back-staircase- 

The  bachelors'  wing  of  Congress  Hall  is  a  long,  unsightly, 
wooden  barrack,  divided  into  chambers  six  feet  by  four, 'and  of 
an  airiness  of  partition  which  enables  the  occupant  to  converse 
with  his  neighbor  three  rooms  off,  with  the  ease  of  clerks  calling 
out  entries  to  the  leger  across  the  desks  of  a  counting-house. 
The  clatter  of  knives  and  plates  came  up  to  our  ears  in  a  con 
fused  murmur,  and  Van  Pelt  having  refused  to  dine  at  the  only 
inn  upon  the  route,  for  some  reason  best  known  to  himself,  I 
commenced  the  progress  of  a  long  toilet  with  an  appetite  not 
rendered  patient  by  the  sounds  of  cheer  below. 

I  had  washed  the  dust  out  of  my  eyes  and  mouth,  and  over 
come  with  heat  and  hunger,  I  knotted  a  cool  cravat  loosely  round 
my  neck,  and  sat  down  in  the  one  chaii 

"Van  Pelt!"  I  shouted. 

"  Well,  Phil  ?" 

"  Are  you  dressed  ?" 

"  Dressed !  I  am  as  pinguid  as  a  patefoie  gras — greased  to  the 
eyelids  in  cold  cream  !" 

I  took  up  the  sixpenny  glass  and  looked  at  my  own  newly- 
washed  physiognomy.  From  the  temples  to  the  chin  it  was  one 
unmitigated  red — burned  to  a  blister  with  the  sun  !  I  had  been 
obliged  to  deluge  my  head  like  a  mop  to  get  out  the  dust,  and  not 
naturally  remarkable  for  my  good  looks,  I  could,  much  worse 


22  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


than  Van  Pelt,  afford  these  startling  additions  to  my  disadvanta 
ges.  Hunger  is  a  subtle  excuse-finder,  however,  and,  remem 
bering  there  were  five  hundred  people  in  this  formidable  crowd, 
and  all  busy  with  satisfying  their  hunger,  I  trusted  to  escape 
observation,  and  determined  to  "go  down  to  tea."  With  the 
just-named  number  of  guests,  it  will  easily  be  understood  why  it 
is  impossible  to  obtain  a  meal  at  Congress  Hall  out  of  the  stated 
time  and  place. 

In  a  white  roundabout,  a  checked  cravat,  my  hair  plastered 
over  my  eyes  a  la  Mawworm,  and  a  face  like  the  sign  of  the 
"  Rising  Sun,"  I  stopped  at  Van  Pelt's  door. 

"  The  most  hideous  figure  my  eyes  ever  looked  upon !"  was  his 
first  consolatory  observation. 

"  Handsome  or  hideous,"  I  answered,  "  Pll  not  starve  !  So 
here  goes  for  some  bread  and  butter !"  and  leaving  him  to  his 
"  appliances,"  I  descended  to  the  immense  hall  which  serves  the 

• 

comers  to  Saratoga,  for  dining,  dancing  and  breakfasting,  and  in 
wet  weather,  between  meals,  for  shuttlecock  and  promenading. 

Two  interminable  tables  extended  down  the  hall,  filled  by  all 
the  beauty  and  fashion  of  the  United  States.  Luckily,  I  thought, 
for  me,  there  are  distinctions  in  this  republic  of  dissipation,  and 
the  upper  end  is  reserved  for  those  who  have  servants  to  turn 
down  the  chairs  and  stand  over  them.  The  end  of  the  tables 
nearest  the  door,  consequently,  is  occupied  by  those  whose 
opinion  of  my  appearance  is  not  without  appeal,  if  they  trouble 
their  heads  about  it  at  all,  and  I  may  glide  in  in  my  white  round 
about  (permitted  in  this  sultry  weather),  and  retrieve  exhausted 
nature  in  obscurity. 

An  empty  chair  stood  between  an  old  gentleman  and  a  very 
plain  young  lady,  and  seeing  no  remembered  faces  opposite,  I 


LARKS   IN  VACATION.  23 


glided  to  the  place,  and  was  soon  lost  to  apprehension  in  the 
abysm  of  a  cold  pie.  The  table  was  covered  with  meats,  berries, 
bottles  of  chalybeate  water,  tea  appurtenances,  jams,  jellies,  and 
radishes,  and,  but  for  the  absence  of  the  roast,  you  might  have 
doubted  whether  the  meal  was  breakfast  or  dinner,  lunch  or 
supper.  Happy  country !  in  which  any  one  of  the  four  meals 
ui;iy  serve  a  hungry  man  for  all. 

The  pigeon-pie  stood,  at  last,  well  quarried  before  me,  the 
debris  of  the  excavation  heaped  upon  my  plate ;  and,  appetite 
appeased,  and  made  bold  by  my  half  hour's  obscurity,  I  leaned 
forward  and  perused  with  curious  attention  the  long  line  of  faces 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table,  to  some  of  whom,  doubtless,  I 
[was  to  be  indebted  for  the  pleasures  of  the  coming  fortnight. 

My  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  features  of  a  talkative  woman,  just 
above,  and  I  had  quite  forgotten  the  fact  of  my  dishabille  of  com 
plexion  and  dress,  when  two  persons  entered  who  made  consider 
able  stir  among  the  servants,  and  eventually  were  seated  directly 
opposite  me. 

"  We  loitered  too  long  at  Barhydt's,"  said  one  of  the  most  beau 
tiful  women  I  had  ever  seen,  as  she  pulled  her  chair  nearer  to  the 
table  and  looked  around  her  with  a  glance  of  disapproval. 
'*  In  following  her  eyes  to  see  who  was  so  happy  as  to  sympathize 
with  such  a  divine  creature  even  in  the  loss  of  a  place  at  table,  I 
met  the  fixed  and  astonished  gaze  of  my  most  intimate  friend  at 
the  University. 

"  EUerton  !" 

"  Slingsby  !" 

Overjoyed  at  meeting  him,  I  stretched  both  hands  across  the 

narrow  table,  and  had  shaken  his  arms  nearly  off  his  shoulders,  and 

Basked  him  a  dozen  questions,  before  I  became  conscious  that  a  pair 


24  FUN   JOTTINGS 


of  large  wondering  eyes  were  coldly  taking  an  inventory  of  my 
person  and  features.  Van  Pelt's  unflattering  exclamation  upon 
my  appearance  at  his  door,  flashed  across  my  mind  like  a  thun 
derstroke,  and  coloring  through  my  burned  skin  to  the  temples,  I 
bowed  and  stammered  I  know  not  what,  as  Ellerton  introduced 
me  to  his  sister ! 

To  enter  fully  into  my  distress,  you  should  be  apprized  that  a 
correspondence  arising  from  my  long  and  constant  intimacy  with 
Tom  Ellerton,  had  been  carried  on  for  a  year  between  me  and  his 
sister,  and  that,  being  constantly  in  the  habit  of  yielding  to  me  in 
matters  of  taste,  he  had,  I  well  knew,  so  exaggerated .  to  her  my 
personal  qualities,  dress,  and  manners,  that  she  could  not  in  any 
case  fail  to  be  disappointed  in  seeing  me.  Believing  her  to  be  at 
that  moment  two  thousand  miles  off  in  Alabama,  and  never  hav 
ing  hoped  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  at  all,  I  had  foolishly  suf 
fered  this  good-natured  exaggeration  to  go  on,  pleased  with  seeing 
the  reflex  of  his  praises  in  her  letters,  and  Heaven  knows,  little 
anticipating  the  disastrous  interview  upon  which  my  accursed  star 
would  precipitate  me  !  As  I  went  over,  mentally,  the  particulars 
of  my  unbecomingness,  and  saw  Miss  Ellertoii's  eyes  resting  in 
quisitively  and  furtively  on  the  mountain  of  pigeon  bones  lifting 
their  well  picked  pyramid  to  my  chin,  I  wished  myself  an  ink-fish 
at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

Three  minutes  after,  I  burst  into  Van  Pelt's  room,  tearing  my 
hair  and  abusing  Tom  Ellerton's  good  nature,  and  my  friend's 
headless  drosky,  in  alternate  breaths.  Without  disturbing  the 
subsiding  blood  in  his  own  face  by  entering  into  my  violence,  Ho 
race  coolly  asked  me  what  the  devil  was  tho  matter  ? 

I  told  him. 

"  Lie  down  here  !"  said  Van  Pelt,  who  was  a  small  Napoleon 


LARKS   IN    VACATION.  25 


in  such  trying  extremities  5  "  lie  down  on  the  bed,  and  anoint  your 
phiz  with  this  unguent.  I  see  good  luck  for  you  in  this  accident, 
and  you  have  only  to  follow  my  instructions.  Phil  Slingsby,  sun 
burnt,  in  a  white  roundabout,  and  Phil  Slingsby,  pale  and  well 
dressed,  are  as  different  as  this  potted  cream  and  a  dancing  cow. 
You  shall  see  what  a  little  drama  I'll  work  out  for  you  !" 

I  laid  down  on  my  back,  and  Horace  kindly  anointed  me  from 
the  trachea  to  the  forelock,  and  from  ear  to  ear. 

"  Egad,"  said  he,  warming  with  his  study  of  his  proposed  plot, 
as  he  slid  his  fore-fingers  over  the  bridge  of  my  nose,  "  every  cir 
cumstance  tells  for  us.  Tall  man  as  you  are,  you  are  as  short- 
bodied  as  a  monkey  (no  offence,  Phil!);  and  when  you  sit  at 
table,  you  are  rather  an  under-sized  gentleman.  I  have  been  as 
tonished  every  day  these  three  years,  at  seeing  you  rise  after  dinner 
in  Commons'  Hall.  A  thousand  to  one,  Fanny  Ellerton  thinks 
you  a  stumpy  man." 

"And  then,  Phil,"  he  continued,  with  a  patronizing  tone, "  you 
have  studied  minute  philosophy  to  little  purpose  if  you  do  not 
know  that  the  first  step  in  winning  a  woman  to  whom  you  have 
been  overpraised,  is  to  disenchant  her  at  all  hazards,  on  your  first 
interview.  You  will  never  rise  above  the  ideal  she  has  formed, 
and  to  sink  below  it  gradually,  or  to  remain  stationary,  is  not  to 
thrive  in  your  wooing." 

Leaving  me  this  precocious  wisdom  to  digest,  Horace  descend 
ed  to  the  foot  of  the  garden  to  take  a  warm  bath,  and  overcome 
with  fatigue,  and  the  recumbent  posture,  I  soon  fell  asleep  and 
dreamed  of  the  great  blue  eyes  of  Fanny  Ellerton. 


26  FUN   JOTTINGS. 


II. 

The  soaring  of  the  octave  flute  in  "  Hail  Columbia,"  with  which 
the  band  was  patriotically  opening  the  ball,  woke  me  from  the 
midst  of  a  long  apologetic  letter  to  my  friend's  sister,  and  I  found 
Van  Pelt's  black  boy  Juba  waiting  patiently  at  the  bed-side  with 
curling-tongs  and  Cologne-water,  ordered  to  superintend  my  toilet 
by  his  master,  who  had  gone  early  to  the  drawing-room  to  pay 
his  respects  to  Miss  Ellerton.  With  the  cold  cream  disappeared 
entirely  from  my  face  the  uncomfortable  redness  to  which  I  had 
been  a  martyr,  and,  thanks  to  my  ebony  coiffeur,  my  straight  and 
1  plastered  locks  soon  grew  as  different  to  their  "  umquhile  guise" 
as  Hyperion's  to  a  satyr's.  Having  appeared  to  the  eyes  of  the 
lady,  in  whose  favor  I  hoped  to  prosper,  in  red  and  white  (red  phiz 
and  white  jacket),  I  trusted  that  in  white  and  black  (black  suit 
and  pale  viznomy),  I  should  look  quite  another  person.  Juba 
was  pleased  to  show  his  ivory  in  a  complimentary  smile  at  my 
transformation,  and  I  descended  to  the  drawing-room,  on  the  best 
terms  with  the  coxcomb  in  my  bosom. 

Horace  met  me  at  the  door. 

"  Proteus  redivivus ."'  was  his  exclamation.  "  Your  new  name 
is  Wrongham.  You  are  a  gentle  senior,  instead  of  a  bedeviled 
sophomore,  and  your  cue  is  to  be  poetical.  She  will  never  think 
again  of  the  monster  in  the  white  jacket,  and  I  have  prepared  her 
for  the  acquaintance  of  a  new  friend,  whom  I  have  just  described 
to  you. 

I  took  his  arm,  and  with  the  courage  of  a  man  in  a  mask,  went 
through  another  presentation  to  Miss  Ellerton.  Her  brother  had 
been  let  into  the  secret  by  Van  Pelt,  and  received  me  with  great 


LARKS   IN    VACATION.  2t 


ceremony  as  his  college  superior  ;  awl,  as  there  was  no  other  per 
son  at  the  Springs  who  knew  Mr.  Slingsby,  Mr.  Wrongham  was 
likely  to  have  an  undisturbed  reign  of  it.  Miss  Ellerton  looked 
hard  at  me  for  a  moment,  but  the  gravity  with  which  I  was  pre 
sented  and  received,  dissipated  a  doubt  if  one  had  arisen  in  her 
mind,  and  she  took  my  arm  to  go  to  the  ball-room,  with  an  undis 
turbed  belief  in  my  assumed  name  and  character. 

I  commenced  the  acquaintance  of  the  fair  Alabamian  with  great 
advantages.  Received  as  a  perfect  stranger,  I  possessed,  from 
long  correspondence  with  her,  the  most  minute  knowledge  of  the 
springs  of  her  character,  and  of  her  favorite  reading  and  pursuits, 
and,  with  the  little  knowledge  of  the  world  which  she  had  gained 
on  a  plantation,  she  was  not  likely  to  penetrate  my  game  from  my 
playing  it  too  freely.  Her  confidence  was  immediately  won  by  the 
readiness  with  which  I  entered  into  her  enthusiasm  and  anticipated 
her  thoughts  ;  and  before  the  first  quadrille  was  well  over,  she  had 
evidently  made  up  her  mind  that  she  had  never  in  her  life  met  one 
who  so  well  "  understood  her."  Oh  !  how  much  women  include 
in  that  apparently  indefinite  expression,  ''  He  understands  me  !" 

The  colonnade  of  Congress  Hall  is  a  long  promenade  laced  in 
with  vines  and  columns,  on  the  same  level  with  the  vast  ball-room 
and  drawing-room,  and  (the  light  of  heaven  not  being  taxed  at 
Saratoga)  opening  at  every  three  steps  by  a  long  window  into  the 
carpeted  floors.  When  the  rooms  within  are  lit  in  a  summer's 
night,  that  cool  and  airy  colonnade  is  thronged  by  truants  from 
the  dance,  and  collectively  by  all  who  have  anything  to  express 
that  is  meant  for  one  ear  only.  The  mineral  waters  of  Saratoga 
are  no  less  celebrated  as  a  soporific  for  chaperons  than  as  a  tonic 
for  the  dyspeptic,  and  while  the  female  Argus  dozes  in  the  draw 
ing-room,  the  fair  lo  and  her  Jupiter  (represented  in  this  case,  wo 


23  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


will  say,  by  Miss  Ellerton  and  myself)  range  at  liberty  iu  thy  fer 
tile  fields  of  flirtation. 

I  had  easily  put  Miss  Ellerton  in  surprised  good  humor  with 
herself  and  me  during  the  first  quadrille,  and  with  a  freedom  based 
pa,rtly  upon  my  certainty  of  pleasing  her,  partly  on  the  peculiar 
manners  of  the  place,  I  coolly  requested  that  she  would  continue 
to  dance  with  me  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

"  One  unhappy  quadrille  excepted,"  she  replied,  with  a  look 
meant  to  be  mournful. 

"  May  I  ask  with  whom  r" 

"  Oh,  he  has  not  asked  me  yet ;  but  my  brother  has  bound  me 
over  to  be  civil  to  hiui — a  spectre,  Mr.  Wrongham  !  a  positive 
spectre." 

"How  denominated  r"  I  inquired,  with  a  forced  indifference, 
for  I  had  a  presentiment  I  should  hear  my  own  name. 

"  Slingsby — Mr.  Philip  Slingsby — Tom's  tidus  Achates,  and  a 
proposed  lover  of  my  own.  But  you  don't  seem  surprised." 

"  Surprised !     E-hein  !     I  know  the  gentleman  I" 

"  Then  did  you  ever  see  such  a  monster !  Tom  told  me  he 
was  another  Hyperion.  He  half  admitted  it  himself,  indeed  ;  for 
to  tell  you  a  secret,  I  have  corresponded  with  him  a  year  !" 

"  Giddy  Miss  Fanny  Ellerton  ! — and  never  saw  him  !" 

"  Never  till  to-night !  He  sat  at  supper  in  a  white  jacket  and 
red  face,  with  a  pile  of  bones  upon  his  plate  like  an  Indian  tumu 
lus." 

"  And  your  brother  introduced  you  ?" 

"  Ah,  you  were  at  table  !  Well,  did  you  ever  see  in  your  tra 
vels,  a  man  so  unpleasantly  hideous  ?" 

"  Fanny  !"  said  her  brother,  coming  up  at  the  moment,  "Slings- 


LARKS  IN  VACATION.  29 


by  presents  his  apologies  to  you  for  not  joining  your  cordon  to 
night — but  he's  gone  to  bed  with  a  head-ache." 

"  Indigestion,  I  dare  say,"  said  the  young  lady.  "  Never  mind, 
Tom,  I'll  break  my  heart  when  I  have  leisure.  And  now,  Mr. 
Wrongham,  since  the  spectre  walks  not  forth  to-night,  I  am  yours 
for  a  cool  hour  on  tjhe  colonnade." 

Vegetation  is  rapid  in  Alabama,  and  love  is  a  weed  that  thrives 
in  the  soil  of  the  tropics.  We  discoursed  of  the  lost  Pleiad  and 
the  Berlin  bracelets,  of  the  five  hundred  people  about  us,  and  the 
feasibility  of  boiling  a  pot  on  five  hundred  a  year — the  unmatri- 
monial  sum  total  of  my  paternal  allowance.  She  had  as  many 
negroes  as  I  had  dollars,  I  well  knew,  but  it  was  my  cue  to  seem 
disinterested. 

"  And  where  do  you  mean  to  live,  when  you  marry,  Mr. 
Wrongham  ?"  asked  Miss  Ellerton,  at  the  two  hundredth  turn  on 
the  colonnade. 

"  Would  you  like  to  live  in  Italy  ?"  I  asked  again,  as  if  I  had 
not  heard  her. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  as  a  sequitur  to  my  question,  Mr.  Wrong- 
ham  :"  said  she,  half  stopping  in  her  walk  ;  and  though  the  sen 
tence  was  commenced  playfully,  dropping  her  voice  at  the  last 
word,  with  something,  I  thought,  very  like  emotion. 

I  drew  her  off  the  colonnade  to  the  small  garden  between  the 
house  and  the  spring,  and  in  a  giddy  dream  of  fear  and  surprise 
at  my  own  rashness  and  success,  I  made,  and  won  from  her,  a 
frank  avowal  of  preference. 

Matches  have  been  made  more  suddenly. 


30  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


III. 

Miss  Ellerton  sat  in  the  music-room  the  next  morning  after 
breakfast,  preventing  pauses  in  a  rather  interesting  conversation, 
by  a  running  accompaniment  upon  the  guitar.  A  single  gold 
thread  formed  a  fillet  about  her  temple's,  and  from  beneath  it,  in 
clouds  of  silken  ringlets,  floated  the  softest  raven  hair  that  ever 
grew  enamored  of  an  ivory  shoulder.  Hers  was  a  skin  that  seemed 
woven  of  the  lily-white,  but  opaque  fibre  of  the  magnolia,  yet  of 
that  side  of  its  cup  turned  toward  the  fading  sunset.  There  is  no 
term  in  painting,  because  there  is  no  touch  of  pencil  or  color  that 
could  express  the  vanishing  and  impalpable  breath  that  assured 
the  healthiness  of  so  pale  a  cheek.  She  was  slight,  as  all  southern 
women  are  in  America,  and  of  a  flexible  and  luxurious  gracefulness 
equalled  by  nothing  but  the  movings  of  a  smoke-curl.  Without 
the  elastic  nerve  remarkable  in  the  motions  of  Taglioni,  she  appear 
ed,  like  her,  to  be  born  with  a  lighter  specific  gravity  than  her  fel 
low-creatures.  If  she  had  floated  away  upon  some  chance  breeze 
you  would  only  have  been  surprised  upon  reflection. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  too  fond  of  society,"  said  Miss  Ellerton, 
as  Juba  came  in  hesitatingly  and  delivered  her  a  note  in  the  hand 
writing  of  an  old  correspondent.  She  turned  pale  on  seeing  the 
(superscription,  and  crushed  the  note  up  in  her  hand,  unread.  I 
was  not  sorry  to  defer  the  denouement  of  my  little  drama,  and  tak 
ing  up  the  remark  which  she  seemed  disposed  to  forget,  I  referred 
her  to  a  scrap-book  of  Van  Pelt's,  which  she  had  brought  home 
with  her,  containing  some  verses  of  my  own,  copied  (by  good  luck) 
in  that  sentimental  sophomore's  own  hand. 

"  Are  these  yours,  really  and  really  ?"  she  asked,  looking  pry- 


LARKS  IN  VACATION.  3! 


ingly  into  my  face,  and  showing  me  my  own  verses,  against  which 
she  had  already  run  a  pencil  lino  of  approbation. 

"  Peccavi  /"  I  answered.  "  But  will  you  make  me  in  love 
with  my  offspring  by  reading  them  in  your  own  voice." 

They  were  some  lines  written  in  a  balcony  at  daybreak,  while 
a  ball  was  still  going  on  within,  and  contained  an  allusion  (which 
I  had  quite  overlooked)  to  some  one  of  my  ever-changing  admira 
tions.  As  well  as  I  remember  they  ran  thus  : — 

Morn  in  the  east !     How  coldly  fair 

It  breaks  upon  my  fevered  eye  ! 
How  chides  the  calm  and  dewy  air ! 

How  chides  the  pure  and  pearly  sky  ! 
^  The  stars  melt  in  a  brighter  fire, 

The  dew  in  sunshine  leaves  the  flowers ; 
They  from  their  watch,  in  light  retire, 
While  we  in  sadiiess  pass  from  ours  ! 

I  turn  from  the  rebuking  morn, 

The  cold  gray  sky  and  fading  star, 
And  listen  to  the  harp  and  horn, 

And  see  the  waltzers  near  and  far  : 
The  lamps  and  flowers  are  bright  as  yet, 

And  lips  beneath  more  bright  than  they — 
How  can  a  scene  so  fair  beget 

The  mournful  thoughts  we  bear  away. 

'Tis  something  that  thou  art  not  here 

Sweet  lover  of  my  lightest  word  ! 
'Tis  something  that  my  mother's  tear 

By  these  forgetful  hours  is  stirred  ! 
But  I  have  long  a  loiterer  been 

In  haunts  where  Joy  is  said  to  be ; 
j$nd  though  with  Peace  I  enter  in, 

The  nymph  comes  never  forth  with  me  ! 


32  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

"  And  who  was  this  *  sweet  lover,'  Mr  Wrongham  ?  I  should 
know,  I  think,  before  I  go  farther  with  so  expeditious  a  gentle 
man." 

"As  Shelley  sa,ys  of  his  ideal  mistress — 

'I  loved — oh,  no  1     I  mean  not  one  of  ye, 
Or  any  earthly  one — though  ye  are  fairl' 

It  was  but  an  apostrophe  to  the  presentiment  of  that  which  I  havo 
found,  dear  Miss  Ellerton  !  But  will  you  read  that  ill-treated 
billet-doux,  and  remember  that  Juba  stands  with  the  patience  of 
an  ebon  statue  waiting  for  an  answer  ?" 

I  knew  the  contents  of  the  letter,  and  I  watched  the  expression 
of  her  face,  as  she  read  it,  with  no  little  interest.  Her  temples 
flushed,  and  her  delicate  lips  gradually  curled  into  an  expression 
of  anger  and  scorn,  and  having  finished  the  perusal  of  it,  she  put 
it  into  my  hand,  and  asked  me  if  so  impertinent  a  production  de 
served  an  answer. 

I  began  to  fear  that  the  eclair cisscmcnt  would  not  leave  me  on 
the  sunny  side  of  the  lady's  favor,  and  felt  the  need  of  the  mo 
ment's  reflection  given  me  while  running  my  eye  over  the  letter. 

"  Mr.  Slingsby,"  said  I,  with  the  deliberation  of  an  attorney, 
"  has  been  some  time  in  correspondence  with  you  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And,  from  his  letters  and  your  brother's  commendations,  you 
had  formed  a  high  opinion  of  his  character,  and  had  expressed  as 
much  in  your  letters  r" 

"  Yes — perhaps  I  did." 

"  And  from  this  paper  intimacy  he  conceives  himself  sufficiently 
acquainted  with  you  to  request  leave  to  pay  his  addresses  r" 

A  dignified  bow  put  a  stop  to  my  catechism. 


LARKS  IN  VACATION.  33 

"  Dear  Miss  ElTerton  !"  I  said,  "  this  is  scarcely  a  question 
upon  which  I  ought  to  speak,  but  by  putting  this  letter  into  my 
hand,  you  seemed  to  ask  my  opinion. '; 

"  I  did — I  do,"  said  the  lovely  girl,  taking  my  hand,  and  look 
ing  appealingly  into  my  face  ;  "  answer  it  for  me  !  I  have  done 
wrong  in  encouraging  that  foolish  correspondence,  and  I  owe  per 
haps  to  this  forward  man  a  kinder  reply  than  my  first  feeling 
would  have  dictated.  Decide  for  mo — write  for  me — relieve  me 
from  the  first  burden  that  has  lain  on  my  heart  since " 

She  burst  into  tears,  and  my  dread  of  an  explanation  increased. 

"  Will  you  follow  my  advice  implicitly  ?"  I  asked.  , 

"  Yes— oh,  yes  !» 

"  You  promise  r" 

"  Indeed,  indeed  !" 

"  Well,  then,  listen  to  me  !  However  painful  the  task,  I  must 
tell  you  that  the  encouragement  you  have  given  Mr.  Slingsby,  the 
admiration  you  have  expressed  in  your  letters  of  his  talents  and 
acquirements,  and  the  confidence  you  have  reposed  in  him  res 
pecting  yourself,  warrant  him  in  claiming  as  a  right,  a  fair  trial 
of  his  attractions.  You  have  known  and  approved  Mr.  Slingsby 's 
mind  for  years — you  know  me  but  for  a  few  hours.  You  saw 
him  under  the  most  unfavorable  auspices  (for  I  know  him  inti 
mately),  and  I  feel  bound  in  justice  to  assure  you  that  you  will  like 
him  much  better  upon  acquaintance." 

Miss  Ellerton  had  gradually  drawn  herself  up  during  this  splen 
did  speech,  and  sat  at  last  as  erect  and  as  cold  as  Agrippina  upon 
her  marble  chair. 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  send  Mr.  Slingsby  to  you,''  I  continued, 

rising — "  and  suffer  him  to  plead  his  own  cause  ?'' 
2* 


34  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


"  If  you  will  call  my  brother,  Mr.  Wrongham,  I  shall  feel 
obliged  to  you,"  said  Miss  Ellerton. 

I  left  the  room,  and  hurrying  to  my  chamber,  dipped  uiy  head 
into  a  basin  of  water,  and  plastered  my  long  locks  over  my  eyes, 
slipped  on  a  white  roundabout,  and  tied  around  my  neck  the  iden 
tical  checked  cravat  in  which  I  had  made  such  an  unfavorable 
impression  on  the  first  day  of  my  arrival.  Tom  Ellerton  was 
soon  found,  and  easily  agreed  to  go  before  and  announce  me  by 
my  proper  name  to  his  sister  ;  and  treading  closely  on  his  heels, 
1  followed  to  the  door  of  the  music-room. 

"Ah,  Ellen  !"  said  he,  without  giving  her  time  for  a  scene,  "  I 
was  looking  for  you.  Slingsby  is  better,  and  will  pay  bis  respects 
to  you  presently.  And,  I  say — you  will  treat  him  well,  Ellen, 
and — and,  don't  flirt  with  Wrongham  the  way  you  did  last  night ! 
Slingsby 's  a  devilish  sight  better  fellow.  Oh,  here  he  is  !" 

As  I  stepped  over  the  threshold,  Miss  Ellerton  gave  me  just 
enough  of  a  look  to  assure  herself  that  it  was  the  identical  monster 
she  had  seen  at  the  tea-table,  and  not  deigning  me  another  glance, 
immediately  commenced  talking  violently  to  her  brother  on  the 
state  of  the  weather.  Tom  bore  it  for  a  moment  or  two  with 
remarkable  gravity,  but  at  my  first  attempt  to  join  in  the  conver 
sation,  my  voice  was  lost  in  an  explosion  of  laughter  which  would 
have  been  the  death  of  a  gentleman  with  a  full  habit. 

Indignant  and  astonished,  Miss  Ellerton  rose  to  her  full  height, 
and  slowly  turned  to  me. 

"  Peccavi  /"  said  I,  crossing  my  hands  on  my  bosom,  and  look 
ing  up  penitently  to  her  face. 

She  ran  to  me,  and  seized  my  hand,  but  recovered  herself  in 
stantly,  and  the  next  moment  was  gone  from  the  room. 

Whether  trom  wounded  pride  at  having  been  the  subject  of  a 


LARKS  IN  VACATION.  35 


mystification,  or  whether  from  that  female  caprice  by  which  most 
men  suffer  at  one  period  or  other  of  their  bachelor  lives,  I  know 
not — but  I  never  could  bring  Miss  Ellerton  again"  to  the  same  in 
teresting  crisis  with  which  she  ended  her  intimacy  with  Mr.  Wrong- 
ham.  She  proffered  to  forgive  me,  and  talked  laughingly  enough 
of  our  old  correspondence  ;  but  whenever  I  grew  tender,  she  re 
ferred  me  to  the  "  sweet  lover,''  mentioned  in  my  verses  in  the 
balcony,  and  looked  around  for  Van  Pelt.  That  accomplished 
beau,  on  observing  my  discomfiture,  began  to  find  out  Miss  Eller- 
ton's  graces  without  the  aid  of  his  quizzing-glass,  and  I  soon  found 
it  necessary  to  yield  the  pas  altogether.  She  has  since  become 
Mrs.  Van  Pelt,  and  when  I  last  heard  from  her  was  "  as  well  as 
could  be  expected." 


CHAPTER   III. 

MRS.    CAPTAIN   THOMPSON. 

THE  last  of  August  came  sweltering  in,  hot,  dusty,  and  faint, 
and  the  most  indefatigable  belles  of  Saratoga  began  to  show  symp 
toms  of  weariness.  The  stars  disappeared  gradually  from  the 
ball-room  ;  the  barkeeper  grew  thin  under  the  thickening  accounts 
for  lemonades;  the  fat  fellow  in  the  black  band,  who  "vexed" 
the  bassoon,  had  blown  himself  from  the  girth  of  Falstaff  to  an 
"  eagle's  talon  in  the  waist ;"  papas  began  to  be  waylaid  in  tJ»^* 


£G  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

morning  walks  by  young  gentlemen  with  propositions  ;  and  stage 
coaches  that  came  in  with  their  baggagelesa  tails  in  the  air,  and 
the  driver's  weight  pressing  the  foot-board  upon  the  astonished 
backs  of  his  wheelers,  went  out  with  the  trim  of  a  Venetian  gon 
dola — the  driver's  up-hoisted  figure  answering  to  the  curved  pro 
boscis  of  that  stern-laden  craft. 

The  vocation  of  tin-tumblers  and  water-dippers  was  gone.  The 
fashionable  world  (brazen  in  its  general  habit)  had  drank  its  fill 
of  the  ferruginoous  waters.  Mammas  thanked  Heaven  for  the 
conclusion  of  the  chaperon's  summer  solstice ;  and  those  who 
came  to  bet,  and  those  who  came  to  marry,  "  made  up  their 
books,"  and  walked  off  (if  they  had  won)  with  their  winnings. 

Having  taken  a  less  cordial  farewell  of  Van  Pelt  than  I  might 
have  done  had  not  Miss  Ellerton  been  hanging  confidingly  on  his 
arm,  I  followed  my  baggage  to  the  door,  where  that  small  epitome 
of  the  inheritance  of  the  prince  of  darkness,  an  American  stage 
coach,  awaited  me  as  its  ninth  inside  passenger.  As  the  last  per 
son  picked  up,  I  knew  very  well  the  seat  to  which  I  was  destined, 
and  drawing  a  final  cool  breath  in  the  breezy  colonnade,  I  sum 
moned  resolution  and  abandoned  myself  to  the  tender  mercies  of 
the  driver. 

The  "  ray  of  contempt"  that  "  will  pierce  through  the  shell  of 
the  tortoise,"  is  a  shaft  from  the  horn  of  a  new  moon  in  compari 
son  with  the  beating  of  an  American  sun  through  the  top  of  a 
stage-coach.  This  "  accommodation  "  as  it  is  sometimes  bitterly 
called,  not  being  intended  to  carry  outside  passengers,  has  a  top 
as  thin  as  your  grandmother's  umbrella,  black,  porous,  and  crack 
ed  ;  and  while  intended  for  a  protection  from  the  heat,  it  just  suf 
fices  to  collect  the  sun's  rays  with  an  incredible  power  and  sultri 
ness,  and  exclude  the  air  that  makes  it  sufferable  to  the  beasts  of 


LARKS  IN  VACATION.  37 

the  field.  Of  the  nine  places  inside  this  "  dilly,"  the  four  seats 
in  the  corners  are  so  far  preferable  that  the  occupant  has  the  out 
er  side  of  his  body  exempt  from  a  perspirative  application  of  hu 
man  flesh  (the  thermometer  at  100  degrees  of  Fahrenheit),  while, 
of  the  three  middle  places  on  the  three  seats,  the  man  in  the  cen 
tre  of  the  coach,  with  no  support  for  his  back,  yet  buried  to  the 
chin  in  men,  women,  and  children,  is  at  the  ninth  and  lowest  de 
gree  of  human  suffering.  I  left  Saratoga  in  such  a  state  of  happi 
ness  as  you  might  suppose  for  a  gentleman,  who,  besides  fulfilling 
this  latter  category,  had  been  previously  unhappy  in  his  love. 

I  was  dressed  in  a  white  roundabout  and  trowsers  of  the  same, 
a  straw  hat,  thread  stockings,  and  pumps,  and  was  so  far  a  bless 
ing  to  my  neighbors  that  I  looked  cool.  Directly  behind  me,  oc 
cupying  the  middle  of  the  back  seat,  sat  a  young  woman  with  a 
gratis  passenger  in  her  lap  (who,  of  course,  did  not  count  among 
the  nine),  in  the  shape  of  a  fat  and  a  very  hot  child  of  three  years 
of  age,  whom  she  called  John,  Jacky,  Johnny,  Jocket,  Jacket, 
and  the  other  endearing  diminutives  of  the  namesakes  of  the  great 
apostle.  Like  the  saint  who  had  been  selected  for  his  patron,  he 
was  a  "  voice  crying  in  the*  wilderness."  This  little  gentleman 
was  exceedingly  unpopular  with  his  two  neighbors  at  the  windows, 
aud  his  incursions  upon  their  legs  and  shoulders  in  his  occasional 
forays  for  fresh  air,  ended  in  his  being  forbidden  to  look  out  at 
either  window,  and  plied  largely  with  gingerbread  to  content  him 
with  the  warm  lap  of  his  mother.  Though  I  had  no  eyes  in  the 
back  of  my  straw  hat,  I  conceived  very  well  the  state  in  which  a 
compost  of  soft  gingerbread,  tears,  and  perspiration,  would  soon 
leave  the  two  unscrupulous  hands  behind  me  ;  and  as  the  jolts  of 
the  coach  frequently  threw  me  back  upon  the  knees  of  his  mother, 
I  could  not  consistently  complain  of  the  familiar  use  made  of  my 


38  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


roundabout  and  shoulders  in  Master  John'3  constant  changes  of 
position.  I  vowed  my  jacket  to  the  first  river,  the  moment  I 
could  make  sure  that  the  soft  gingerbread  was  exhausted — but  I 
kept  my  temper. 

IIow  an  American  Jehu  gets  his  team  over  ten  miles  in  the 
hour,  through  all  the  variety  of  sand,  ruts,  clay-pits,  and  stump- 
thickets,  is  a  problem  that  can  only  be  resolved  by  riding  beside 
him  on  the  box.  In  the  usual  time  we  arrived  at  the  pretty  vil 
lage  of  Troy,  some  thirty  miles  from  Saratoga ;  and  here,  having 
exchanged  my  bedaubed  jacket  for  a  clean  one,  I  freely  forgave 
little  Pickle  his  freedoms,  for  I  hoped  never  to  set  eyes  on  him 
again  during  his  natural  life.  I  was  going  eastward  by  another 
coach. 

Having  eaten  a  salad  for  my  dinner,  and  drank  a  bottle  of  iced 
claret,  I  stepped  forth  in  my  "  blanched  and  lavendered  "  jacket 
to  take  my  place  in  the  other  coach,  trusting  Providence  not  to 
afflict  me  twice  in  the  same  day  with  the  evil  I  had  just  escaped, 
and  feeling,  on  the  whole,  reconciled  to  my  troubled  dividend  of 
eternity.  I  got  up  the  steps  of  the  coach  with  as  much  alacrity 
as  the  state  of  the  thermometer  w-ould  permit,  and  was  about 
drawing  my  legs  after  me  upon  the  forward  seat,  when  a  clammy 
hand  caught  me  unceremoniously  by  the  shirt-collar,  and  the  voice 
I  was  just  beginning  to  forget  cried  out  with  a  chuckle,  "  Dada  /" 

"  Madam  !''  I  said,  picking  off  the  gingerbread  from  my  shirt 
as  the  coach  rolled  down  the  street,  "  I  had  hoped  that  your  in 
fernal  child " 

I  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  sentence,  for  a  pair  of  large  blue 
eyes  were  looking  wonderingly  into  mine,  and  for  the  first  time  I 
observed  that  the  mother  of  this  familiar  nuisance  was  one  of  the 


LARKS   IN  VACATION.  39 


prettiest  women  I  had  seen  since  I  had  become  susceptible  to  the 
charms  of  the  sex. 

"Are  you  going  to  Boston,  sir?"  she  inquired,  with  a  half 
timid  smile,  as  if,  in  that  case,  she  appealed  to  me  for  protection 
on  the  road. 

"  Yes,  madam  !"  I  answered,  taking  little  Jocket's  pasty  hand 
into  mine,  affectionately,  as  I  returned  her  hesitating  look ;  "  may 
I  hope  for  your  society  so  far  ?" 

My  fresh  white  waistcoat  was  soon  embossed  with  a  dingy  yel 
low,  where  my  enterprising  fellow-passenger  had  thrust  his  sticky 
fist  into  the  pockets,  and  my  sham  shirt-bosom  was  reduced  incon- 

r 

tinently  to  the  complexion  of  a  painter's  rag  after  doing  a  sunset 
•in  gamboge.     I  saw  everything,  however,  through  the  blue  eyes 

of  his  mother,  and  was  soon  on  such  pleasant  terms  with  Master 
v 
John,  that,  at  one  of  the  stopping-places,  I  inveigled  him  out  of 

the  coach  and  dropped  him  accidentally  into  the  horse-trough, 
contriving  to  scrub  him  passably  clean  before  he  could  recover 
breath  enough  for  an  outcry.  I  had  already  thrown  the  residuum 
of  his  gingerbread  out  of  the  window,  so  that  his  familiarities  for 
the  rest  of  the  day  were,  at  least,  less  adhesive. 

We  dropped  one  or  two  way-passengers  at  Lebanon,  and  I  was 
left  in  the  coach  with  Mrs.  Captain  and  Master  John  Thompson, 
in  both  whose  favors  I  made  a  progress  that  (I  may  as  well  de 
pone)  considerably  restored  my  spirits — laid  flat  by  my  unthrift 
wooing  at  Saratoga.  If  a  fly  hath  but  alit  on  my  nose  when  my 
self-esteem  hath  been  thus  at  a  discount,  I  have  soothed  myself 
with  the  fancy  that  it  preferred  me — a  drowning  vanity  will  so 
catch  at  a  straw  ! 

As  we  bowled  along  through  some  of  the  loveliest  scenery  of 
Massachusetts,  my  companion  (now  become  my  charge)  let  me  a 


40  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


little  into  her  history,  and  at  the  same  time,  by  those  shades  of 
insinuation  of  which  women  so  instinctively  know  the  uses,  gave 
me  perfectly  to  comprehend  that  I  might  as  well  economize  my 
tenderness.  The  father  of  the  riotous  young  gentleman  who  had 
made  so  free  with  my  Valencia  waistcoat  and  linen  roundabouts, 
had  the  exclusive  copyhold  of  her  affections.  He  had  been  three 
years  at  sea  (I  think  I  said  before),  and  she  was  hastening  to  show 
him  the  pledge  of  their  affections — come  into  the  world  since  the 
good  brig  Dolly  made  her  last  clearance  from  Boston  bay. 

I  was  equally  attentive  to  Mrs.  Thompson  after  this  illumina 
tion,  though  I  was,  perhaps,  a  shade  less  enamored  of  the  inter 
esting  freedoms  of  Master  John.  One's  taste  for  children  de 
pends  so  much  upon  one's  love  for  their  mothers  ! 

It  was  twelve  o'clock  at  night  when  the  coach  rattled  in  upon 
the  pavements  of  Boston.  Mrs.  Thompson  had  expressed  so 
much  impatience  during  the  last  few  miles,  and  seemed  to  shrink 
so  sensitively  from  being  left  to  herself  in  a  strange  city,  that  I 
offered  my  services  till  she  should  find  herself  in  better  hands,  and, 
as  a  briefer  way  of  disposing  of  her,  had  bribed  the  coachman, 
who  was  in  a  hurry  with  the  mail,  to  turn  a  little  out  of  his  way, 
and  leave  her  at  her  husband's  hotel. 

We  drew  up  with  a  prodigious  clatter,  accordingly,  at  the  Marl- 
borough  hotel,  where,  no  coach  being  expected,  the  boots  and 
bar-keeper  were  not  immediately  forthcoming.  After  a  rap  "  to 
wake  the  dead,"  I  set  about  assisting  the  impatient  driver  in  get 
ting  off  the  lady's  trunks  and  boxes,  and  they  stood  in  a  large 
pyramid  on  the  sidewalk  when  the  door  was  opened.  A  man  in 
his  shirt,  three  parts  asleep,  held  a  flaring  candle  over  his  head, 
and  looked  through  the  half-opened  door. 


LARKS  IN    VACATION.  41 


"  Is  Captain  Thompson  up  ?"  I  asked  rather  brusquely,  irritated 
at  the  sour  visage  of  the  bar-keeper. 

"  Captain  Thompson,  sir  !"' 

"  Captain  Thompson,  sir  !  !"  I  repeated  my  words  with  a  voice 
that  sent  him  three  paces  back  into  the  hall. 

"  No,  sir,''  he  said  at  last,  slipping  one  leg  into  his  trowsers. 
which  had  hitherto  been  under  his  arm. 

"  Then  wake  him  immediately,  and  tell  him  Mrs.  Thompson 
is  arrived."  Here's  a  husband,  thought  I,  as  I  heard  something 
between  a  sob  and  a  complaint  issue  from  the  coach-window  at 
the  bar-keeper's  intelligence.  To  go  to  bed  when  he  expected 
his  wife  and  child,  and  after  three  years'  separation  !  She  might 
as  well  have  made  a  parenthesis  in  her  constancy  ! 

"  Have  you  called  the  captain  ?"  I  asked,  as  I  set  Master  John 
upon  the  steps,  and  observed  the  man  still  standing  with  the  can 
dle  in  his  hand,  grinning  from  ear  to  ear. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  the  man. 

"  No  !"  I  thundered,  "  and  what  in  the  devil's  name  is  the  rea- 
eon  r" 

"  Boots  !"  he  cried  out  in  reply,  "  show  this  gentleman  '  forty- 
one.'  Them  may  wake  Captain  Thompson  as  likes  !  /  never 
heam  of  no  Mrs.  Thompson  !" 

Rejecting  an  ungenerous  suspicion  that  flashed  across  my  mind, 
and  informing  the  bar-keeper  en  passant,  that  he  was  a  brute  and 
a  donkey,  I  sprang  up  the  staircase  after  a  boy,  and  quite  out  of 
breath,  arrived  at  a  long  gallery  of  bachelors'  rooms  on  the  fifth 
floor.  The  boy  pointed  to  a  door  at  the  end  of  the  gallery,  and 
retreated  to  the  banisters  as  if  to  escape  the  blowing  up  of  a 
petard. 

Rat-a-tat-tat  ! 


42  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


"  Come  in !"  thundered  a  voice  like  a  hailing  trumpet.  I  took 
the  lamp  from  the  boy,  and  opened  the  door.  On  a  narrow  bed 
well  tucked  up,  lay  a  most  formidable  looking  individual,  with  a 
face  glowing  with  carbuncles,  a  pair  of  deep-set  eyes  inflamed  and 
fiery,  and  hair  and  eyebrows  of  glaring  red,  mixed  slightly  with 
gray  ;  while  outside  the  bed  lay  a  hairy  arm,  with  a  fist  like  the 
end  of  the  club  of  Hercules.  His  head  tied  loosely  in  a  black 
silk  handkerchief,  and  on  the  light-stand  stood  a  tumbler  of  bran- 
dy-and-water. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?"  he  thundered  again,  as  I  stepped  over 
the  threshold  and  lifted  my  hat,  struck  speechless  for  a  moment 
with  this  unexpected  apparition. 

"  Have  I  the  pleasure,"  I  asked,  in  a  hesitating  voice,  "  to  ad 
dress  Captain  Thompson  ?" 

"  That's  my  name  !" 

"  Ah !  then,  captain,  I  have  the  pleasure  to  inform  you  that 
Mrs.  Thompson  and  little  John  are  arrived.  They  are  at  the 
door  at  this  moment." 

A  change  in  the  expression  of  Captain  Thompson's  face  check 
ed  my  information  in  the  middle,  and  as  I  took  a  step  backward, 
he  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  and  looked  at  me  in  a  way  that 
did  not  diminish  my  embarrassment. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Milk-and-water,"  said  he,  with  an 
emphasis  on  every  word  like  the  descent  of  a  sledge-hammer  ; 
"  if  you're  not  out  of  this  room  in  two  seconds  with  your  '  Mrs. 
Thompson  and  little  John,'  I'll  slam  you  through  that  window,  or 
the  devil  take  me  !" 

I  reflected  as  I  took  another  step  backward,  that  if  I  were 
thrown  down  to  Mrs.  Thompson  from  a  fifth  story  window  I  should 
not  be  in  a  state  to  render  her  the  assistance  she  required  ;  and 


LARKS  IN  VACATION.  43 


remarking  with  an  ill-feigned  gayety  to  Captain  Thompson  that 
so  decided  a  measure  would  not  be  necessary,  I  backed  expedi- 
tiously  over  the  threshold.  As  I  was  closing  his  door,  I  heard 
the  gulp  of  his  brandy-and-water,  and  the  next  instant  the  empty 
glass  whizzed  past  my  retreating  head,  and  was  shattered  to  pieces 
on  the  wall  behind  me. 

I  gave  the  "  boots"  a  cuff  for  an  untimely  roar  of  laughter  as 
I  reached  the  staircase,  and  descended,  very  much  discomfited  and 
embarrassed,  to  Mrs.  Thompson.  My  delay  had  thrown  that  lady 
into  a  very  moving  state  of  unhappiuess.  Her  tears  were  glisten 
ing  in  the  light  of  the  street  lamp,  and  Master  John  was  pulling 
away  unheeded  at  her  stomacher  and  crying  as  if  he  would  split 
his  diaphragm.  What  to  do  ?  I  would  have  offered  to  take  her  to 
ni}T  paternal  roof  till  the  mystery  could  be  cleared  up — but  I  had 
been  absent  two  years,  and  to  arrive  at  midnight  with  a  woman 
and'a  young  child,  and  such  an  improbable  story — I  did  not  think 
my  reputation  at  home  would  bear  me  out.  The  coachman,  too, 
began  to  swear  and  make  demonstrations  of  leaving  us  in  the 
street,  and  it  was  necessary  to  decide. 

"  Shove  the  baggage  inside  the  coach,"  I  said  at  last,  "  and  drive 
on.  Don't  be  unhappy,  Mrs.  Thompson  !  Jocket,  stop  crying, 
you  villain  !  I'll  see  that  you  are  comfortably  disposed  of  for  the 
night  where  the  coach  stops,  madam,  and  to-morrow  I'll  try  a  little 
reason  with  Captain  Thompson."  How  the  devil  can  she  love 
such  ^  volcanic  specimen  !  I  muttered  to  myself,  dodging  in 
stinctively  at  the  bare  remembrance  of  the  glass  of  brandy-and- 
water. 

The  coachman  made  up  for  lost  time,  and  we  rattled  over  the 
pavements  at  a  rate  that  made  Jocket's  hullybaloo  quite  inaudible. 
As  we  passed  the  door  of  my  own  home,  I  wondered  what  would  be 


44  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


the  impression  of  my  respectable  parent,'  could  he  see  me  whisking 
by,  after  midnight,  with  a  rejected  woman  and  her  progeny  upon 
my  hands  ;  but  smothering  the  unworthy  doubt  that  re-arose  in  my 
mind,  touching  the  legitimacy  of  Master  John,  I  inwardly  vowed 
that  I  would  see  Mrs.  Thompson  at  all  risks  fairly  out  of  hor 
imbroglio. 

We  pulled  up  with  a  noise  like  the  discharge  of  a  load  of  paving- 
stones,  and  I  was  about  saying  something  both  affectionate  and  con 
solatory  to  my  weeping  charge,  when  a  tall  handsome  fellow,  with  a 
face  as  brown  as  a  berry,  sprang  to  the  coach-door  and  seized'  her 
in  his  arms  !  A  shower  of  kisses  and  tender  epithets  left  me  not 
a  moment  in  doubt.  There  was  another  Captain  Thompson.' 

He  had  not  been  able  to  get  rooms  at  the  Marlborough,  as  he 
Lad  anticipated  when  he  wrote,  and  presuming  that  the  mail  would 
come  first  to  the  post-office,  he  had  waited  for  her  there. 

As  I  was  passing  the  Marlborough  a  week  or  two  afterward,  I 
stopped  to  inquire  about  Captain  Thompson.  I  found  that  he  was 
an  old  West  India  captain-,  who  had  lived  there  between  his  cruises 
for  twenty  years  more  or  less,  and  had  generally  been  supposed  a 
bachelor.  He  had  suddenly  gone  to  sea,  the  landlord  told  me, 
smiling  at  the  same  time,  as  if  thereby  hung  a  tale  if  he  chose  to 
tell  it. 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Boniface,  when  I  pushed  him  a  little  on  the 
frnbjcct,  *'  he  was  sheared  off.'' 

"  What  scared  him  ?"  I  asked  very  innocently. 

"A  wife  and  child  from  some  foreign  port !"  ho  answered  laugh 
ing  as  if  he  would  burst  his  waistband,  and  taking  me  into  the 
back  parlor  to  tell  me  the  particulars. 


MEENA  DIMITY; 

OR,  WHY  MR.   BROWN  CRASH  TOOK  THE  TOUR. 

FASHION  is  arbitrary,  we  all  know.  What  it  was  that  origin 
ally  gave  Sassafras  street  the  right  to  despise  Pepperidge  street, 
the  oldest  inhabitant  of  the  village  of  'Slimford  could  not  positive 
ly  say.  The  courthouse  and  jail  were  in  Sassafras  street ;  but  the 
orthodox  church  and  female  seminary  were  in  Pepperidge  street. 

Two  directors  of  the  Slimford  bank  lived  in  Sassafras  street — 
two  in  Pepperidge  street.  The  Dyaper  family  lived  in  Sassafras 
street — the  Dimity  family  in  Pepperidge  street ;  and  the  fathers  of 
the  Dyaper  girls  and  the  Dimity  girls  were  worth  about  the  same 
money,  and  had  both  made  it  in  the  lumber  line.  There  was  no 
difference  to  speak  of  in  their  respective  mode  of  living — none  in 
the  education  of  the  girls — none  in  the  family  gravestones  or 
church-pews.  Yet,  deny  it  who  liked,  the  Dyapers  were  the 
aristocracy  of  Slimford. 

It  may  be  a  prejudice,  but  I  am  inclined  to  think  there  is 
always  something  in  a  nose.  (  I  am  -about  to  mention  a  trifle, 
but  trifles  are  the  beginning  of  most  things,  and  I  would  account 
for  the  pride  paramount  of  the  Dyapers,  if  it  is  in  any  way  possi 
ble.)  The  most  stylish  of  the  Miss  Dyapers — Harriet  Dyaper — 
had  a  nose  like  his  grace  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  Neither  her 


46  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


father  nor  mother  had  such  a  feature ;  but  there  was  a  foreign 
umbrella  in  the  family  with  exactly  the  same  shaped  nose  on  the 
ivory  handle.  Old  Dyaper  had  once  kept  a  tavern,  and  he  had 
taken  this  umbrella  from  a  stranger  for  a  night's  lodging.  But 
that  is  neither  here  nor  there.  To  the  nose  of  Harriet  Dyaper, 
resistlessly  and  instinctively,  the  Dimity  girls  had  knocked  under 
at  school,  There  was  authority  for  it ;  for  the  American  eagle 
had  such  a  nose,  and  the  Duke  of  Wellington  had  such  a  nose ; 
and  when,  to  these  two  warlike  instances,  was  added  the  nose  of 
Harriet  Dyaper,  the  tripod  stood  firm.  Am  I  visionary  in  be 
lieving  that  the  authority  introduced  into  that  village  by  a  fo 
reigner's  umbrella  (so  unaccountable  is  fate)  gave  the  dynasty  to 
the  Dyapers  1 

I  have  mentioned  but  two  families — one  in  each  of  the  two 
principal  streets  of  Slimford.  Having  a  little  story  to  tell,  I 
cannot  afford  to  distract  my  narrative  with  unnecessary  "  asides  ; " 
and  I  must  not  only  omit  all  description  of  the  other  Sassafrasers 
and  Pepperidgers,  but  I  must  leave  to  your  imagination  several 
Miss  Dyapers  and  several  Miss  Dimitys — Harriet  Dyaper  and 
Meena  Dimity  being  the  two  exclusive  objects  of  my  hero's  Sun 
day  and  evening  attentions. 

For  eleven  months  in  the  year,  the  loves  of  the  ladies  of  Slim- 
ford  were  presided  over  by  indigenous  Cupids.  Brown  Crash  and 
the  other  boys  of  the  village  had  the  Dyapers  and  the  Dimitys 
for  that  respective  period  to  themselves.  The  remaining  month, 
when  their  sun  of  favor  was  eclipsed,  was  during  the  falling  of  the 
leaf,  when  the  "drummers"  came  up  to  dun.  The  townish  clerks 
of  the  drygoods  merchants  were  too  much  for  the  provincials. 

Brown  Crash  knocked  under  and  sulked,  owing,  as  he  said,  to 


MEENA  DIMITY.  4t 

D0J melancholy  depression  accompanying  the  fall  of  tho  deciduous 

fetation.     But  I  have  not  yet  introduced  you  to  my  hero. 

Brown  Crash  was  the  Slimford  stage-agent.  He  was  the  son  of 
a  retired  watch-maker,  and  had  been  laughed  at  in  his  boyhood 
for  what  they  called,  his  "  airs."  He  loved,  even  as  a  lad,  to  be 
at  the  tavern  when  the  stage  came  in,  and  help  out  the  ladies. 
\\  ith  instinctive  leisureliness  he  pulled  off  his  cap  as  soon  after 
the  "whoa-hup"as  was  necessary  (and  no  sooner),  and  asked  the 
ladies  if  they  would  "  alight  and  take  dinner,"  with  a  seductive 
*mile  which  began,  as  the  landlord  said,  "  to  pay."  Hence  his 
promotion.  At  sixteen  he  was  nominated  stage-agent,  and 
thenceforward  was  the  most  conspicuous  man  in  the  village  ;  for 
"  man"  he  was,  if  speech  and  gait  go  for  anything. 

But  we  must  minister  a  moment  to  the  reader's  inner  sense  ;  for 
we  to  not  write  altogether  for  Slimford  comprehension.  Brown 
Crash  had  something  in  his  composition  "  above  the  vulgar."  If 
men's  qualities  were  mixed  like  salads,  and  I  were  giving  a  "  re 
cipe  for  Brown  Crashes,"  in  Mrs.  Glass's  style,  I  should  say  his 
two  principal  ingredients  were  a  dictionary  and  a  dunghill  cock — 
for  his  language  was  as  ornate  as  his  style  of  ambulation  was 
deliberate  and  imposing.  What  Brown  Crash  would  have  been, 
born  Right  Honorable,  I  leave  (with  the  smaller  Dyapers  and 
'Dimitys)  to  the  reader's  fancy.  My  object  is  to  show  what  he 
was — minus  patrician  nurture  and  valuation.  Words,  with  Brown 
Crash,  were  susceptible  of  being  dirtied  by  use.  He  liked  a  clean 
towel — he  preferred  an  unused  phrase.  But  here  stopped  his 
peculiarities.  Below  the  epidermis  he  was  like  other  men,  subject 
to  like  tastes  and  passions.  And  if  he  expressed  his  loves  and 
hates  with  grandiloquent  imagery,  they  were  the  honest  loves  and 


48  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


hates  of  a  week-day  world — no  finer  nor  flimsier  for  their  bedock- 
ed  plumage. 

To  use  his  own  phrase,  Brown  frequented  but  two  ladies  in 
Slimford — Miss  Harriet  Dyaper  and  Miss  Meena  Dimity.  The 
first  we  have  described  in  describing  her  nose,  for  her  remainder 
was  comparatively  inconsiderable.  The  latter  was  "  a  love,''  and 
of  course  had  nothing  peculiar  about  her.  She  was  a  lamp — no 
thing  till  lighted.  She  was  a  mantle — nothing,except  as  Worn  by 
the  owner,.  She  was  a  mirror — blank  and  unconscious  till  some 
thing  came  to  be  "reflected.  She  was  anything,  loved — unloved, 
nothing  !  And' this  (it  is  our  opinion  after  half  a  life)  is  the  most 
delicious  and  adorable  variety  of  woman  that  has  been  spared  to 
us  from  the  museum  of  specimen  angels.  (A  remark  of  Brown 
Crash's,  by  the  way,  of  which  he  may  as  well  have  the  credit.) 

Now  Mr.  Crash  had  an  ambitious  weakness  for  the  best  society, 
and  he  liked  to  appear  intimate  with  the  Dyapers.     But'in  Meena 
Dimity,,  there  was  a  secret  charm  which  made  him  wish  she  was 
an  ever-to-be-handed-out  Iady-stage-passengt3r.     He  could  have 
given  her  a  hand,  and  brought  in  her  umbrella,  and  bandbox,  all 
day  long.     In  his  hours  of  pride  he  thought  of  the  Dyapers.     lu 
his  hours  of  affection  of^S. eena  Dimity.     But  the  Dyapers  looked 
down    upon    the  Dimitys  ;  and   to-  play  his  card  delicately  be 
tween  Harriet   and   Meena,  took   all  the   diplomacy  of  Brown 
Crash.      The    uneonscious    Meena    would    walk    up    Sassafras 
street  when  she  had  his  arm,  and  the   scornful  Harriet,  would 
be  there  with  her  nose  over  the  front  gate  to  sneer   at  them. 
He   managed  as  well  as   he  could.     He  went  on  light  evenings 
to  the  Dyapers — on    dark   evenings  to  the    Dimitys.     He  took 
town-walks   with   the   Dyapers — country  walks   with   the  Dim 
itys.     But  his  acquaintance  with  the  Dyapers  hung  by  the  eyelids. 


MEENA  DIMITY.  49 


Harriet  liked  him ;  for  he  was  the  only  beau  in  Slimforcl  whose 
manners  were  not  belittled  beside  her  nose.  But  her  acquaintance 
with  him  was  a  condescension,  and  he  well  knew  that  he  could  not 
"  hold  her  by  the  nose ''  if  she  were  offended.  Oh  no  !  Though 
their  "respective  progenitors  were  of  no  very  unequal  rank — 
though  a  horologist  and*  a  "boss  lumberman"  might  abstractly 
be  equals — the  Dyapers  had  the  power  !  Yes — they  could  lift 
him  to  themselves,  or  dash  him  down  to  the  Dimitys  ;  and  all 
Slimford  would  agree,  in  the  latter  case,  that  he^was  a  "  slab"  and 
a  ''small  potato!" 

But  a  change  came  o'er  the  spirit  of  Brown  Crash's  dream  ! 
The  drummers  were  lording  it  in  Slimford, .and  Brown,  reduced 
to  Meena  Dimity  (for  he  was  too  proud  to  play~second  fiddle  to  a 
town  dandy), was  walking  with  her  on  a  dark  night  past  the 
Dyapers.  The  Dyapers  were  hanging  over  the  gate,  unluckily, 
and  their  Pearl-street  admirers  sitting  on  the  top  rail  of  the  fence. 
.  -*"  Who  is  it  ?"  said  a  strange  voice. 

The  reply,  sent  upward  from  a  scornfully  projecting  under  lip, 
rebounded  in  echoes  from  the  tense  nose  of  Miss  Dyaper. 

"A  Mr.  Crash,  and  a  girl  from  the  back  street  !" 

It  was  enough.  A  hot  spot  on  his  cheek,  a  warm  rim  round 
his  eyes,  a  pimply  pricking  in  his  skin,  and  it  was  all  over  !  Hig 
vow  was  made.  He  coldly  bid  Meena  good  night  at  her  father's 
door,  and  went  home  and  counted  his  money.  And  from  that 
hour,  without  regard  tp  sex,  he  secretly  accepted  shillings  from 
gratified  travellers,  and  "  stood  treat  "  no  more.  *  * 

Saratoga  was  crowded  with  the  dispersed  nuclei  of  the 
metropolises.  Fashion,  wealth,  and  beauty,  were  there.  Brown 
Crash  was  there,  on  his  return  from  a  tour  to  Niagara  and  the 
lakes. 

3 


50  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

"'  Brown  Crash,  Esq  "  was  one  of  the  notabilities  of  Congress 
Hall.  Here  and  there  a  dandy  "  could  not  quite  make  him  out," 
but  there  was  evidently  something  uncommon  about  him.  Tho 
ladies  thought  him  "  of  the  old  school  of  politeness/'  and  the 
politicians  thought  he  had  the  air  of  one  used  to  influence  in  his 
county.  His  language  was  certainly  very  "choice  and  peculiar, 
and  his  gait  was  conscious  dignity  itself.  He  must  have  been 
carefully  educated  ;  yet  his  manners  were  popular,  and  he  was 
particularly  courteous  on  a  first  introduction.  The  elegance  and 
ease  with  which  he  helped  the  ladies  out  of  their  carriages  were 
particularly  remarked,  and  a  shrewd  observer  said  of  him,  that 
"  that  point  of  high  breeding  was  only  acquired  by  daily  habit. 
He  must  have  been  brought  up  where  there  were  carriages  and 
ladie_s.''  A  member  of  Congress,  who  expected  to  run  for  gover 
nor,  inquired  his  county,  and  took  wine  with  him.  His  name  was 
mentioned  by  the  letter-writers  from  the  springs.  Brown  Crash 
was  in  his  perihelion  ! 

The  season  leaned  to  it's  close,  and  the  following  paragraph 
appeared  in  the  New  York  American  : — 

"Fashionable  Intelligence. — The  company  at  the  Springs  is 
breaking  up.  We  understand  that  the  Vice-President  and 
Brown  Crash,  Esq.,  have  already  left  for  their  respective  residen 
ces.  The  latter  gentleman,  it  is  understood,  has  formed  a  matri 
monial  engagement  with  a  family  of  wealth  and  distinction  from 
the  south.  We  trust  that  these  interesting  bonds,  binding  to^e- 
ther  the  leading  families  of  the  far-divided  extremities  of  our 
country,  may  tend  to  strengthen  the  tenacity  of  the  great  Ameri 
can  Union  !" 
•  *  *  *  *  *  * 

It  was  not  surprising  that  the  class  in  Slimford  who  knew  every- 


MEENA  DIMITY.  51 


thing — the  milliners,  to  wit — moralized  somewhat  bitterly  on  Mr. 
Crash's  devotion  to  the  Dyapers  after  his  return,  and  his  conse 
quent  slight  to  Meena  Dimity.  "  If  that  was  the  effect  of  fashion 
and  distinction  on  the  heart,  Mr.  Crash  was  welcome  to  his  hon 
ors  !  Let  him  marry  Miss  Dyaper,  and  they  wished  him  much 
joy  of  her  nose  ;  but  they  would  never  believe  that  he  had  not 
ruthlessly  broken  the  heart  of  Meena  Dimity,  and  he  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  himself,  if  there  was  any  shame  in  such  a  dandy." 

But  the  milliners,  though  powerful  people  in  their  own  way, 
could  little  affect  the  momentum  of  Brown  Crash's  glories.  The 
paragraph  from  the  "American'7  had  been  copied  into  the  "  Slim- 
ford  Advertiser,"  and  the  eyes  of  Sassafras  street  and  Pepperidge 
street  were  alike  opened.  They  had  undervalued  their  indigenous 
"  prophet."  They  had  misinterpreted  and  misread  the  stamp  of 
his  superiority.  He  had  been  obliged  to  go  from  them  to  be  re 
cognized.  But  he  was  returned.  He  was  there  to  have  repara 
tion  made — justice  done.  And  now,  what  office  would  he  like, 
from  Assessor  to  Pathmaster,  and  would  he  be  good  enough  to 
name  it  before  the  next  town-meeting  ?  Brown  Crash  was  king  of 
Slimford ! 

And  Harriet  Dyaper  !  The  scorn  from  her  lip  had  gone,  like, 
the  blue  from  a  radish  !  Notes  for  "  B.  Crash,  Esq.,"  showered 
from  Sassafras  street — bouquets  from  old  Dyaper's  front  yard 
glided  to  him  per  black  boy — no  end  to  the  endearing  attentions, 
undisguised  and  unequivocal.  Brown  Crash  and  Harriet  Dyaper 
were  engaged,  if  having  the  front  parlor  entirely  given  up  to  them 
of  an  evening  meant  anything — if  his  being  expected  every  night 
to  tea  meant  anything — if  his  devoted  (though  she  thought  rather 
cold)  attentions  meant  anything. 

They  didrtt   mean    anything!     They   all   didn't  mean    any- 


52  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


thing  !  What  does  the  orthodox  minister  do,  the  third  Sunday 
after  Brown  Crash's  return,  but  read  the  banns  of  matrimony 
between  that  faithless  man  and  Meena  Dimity  ! 

But  this  was  not  to  be  endure^.  Harriet  Dyaper  had  a  cousin 
who  was  a"  strapper."  He  was  boss  of  a  sawmill  in  the  next 
county,  and  he  must  be  sent  for. 

He  was  sent  for. 
*  *  *  *  *  *  *  . 

The  fight  was  over.  Boss  Dyaper  had  undertaken  to  flog 
Brown  Crash,  but  it  was  a  drawn  battle — for  the  combatants  had 
been  pulled  apart  by  their  coat-tails.  They  stepped  into  the  bar 
room  and  stood  recovering  their  breath.  The  people  of  Slimford 
crowded  in,  and  wanted  to  have  the  matter  talked  over.  Boss 
Dyaper  bolted  out  his  grievance. 

"  Gentlemen  !''  said  Brown  Crash,  with  one  of  his  irresistible 
come-to-dinner  smiles,  "  I  am  culpable,  perhaps,  in  the  minutiao 
of  this  business — justifiable,  I  trust  you  will  say,  in  the  general 
scope  and  tendency.  You,  all  of  you,  probably,  had  mothers,  and 
some  of  you  have  wives  and  sisters  ;  and  your  '  silver  cord'  natur 
ally  sympathizes  with  a  worsted  woman.  But  gentlemen,  you  are 
republicans  !  You,  all  of  you,  are  the  rulers  of  a  country  very 
large  indeed  ;  and  yeu  are  not  limited  in  your  views  to  one  woman, 
nor  to  a  thousand  women — to  one  mile  nor  to  a  thousand  miles. 
You  generalize  !  you  go  for  magnificent  principles,  gentlemen  ! 
You  scorn  high-and-mightiness,  and  supercilious  aristocracy  !" 

"  Hurra  for  Mr.  Crash  !"  cried  a  stage-driver  from  the  outside. 

"  Well,  gentlemen  !  In  what  I  have  done,  I  have  deserved  well 
of  a  republican  country  !  True — it  has  been  my  misfortune  to 
roll  my  Juggernaut  of  principle  over  the  sensibilities  of  that 
gentleman's  respectable  female  relative.  But,  gentlemen,  she 


MEENA  DIMITY.  53 


offended,  reinidilessly  and  grossly,  one  of  the  sovereign  people  ! 
She  scorned  one  of  earth's  fairest  daughters,  who  lives  in  a  back 
street !  Gentlemen,  you  know  that  pride  tripped  up  Lucifer  ! 
Shall  a  tiptop  angel  fall  for  it,  atid  a  young  woman  who  is  nothing 
particular  be  left  scornfully  standing  ?  Shall  Miss  Dyaper  have 
more  privileges  than  Lucifer  ?  I  appreciate  your  indignant 
negative  ! 

"  But,  gentlemen,  I  am  free  to  confess,  I  had  also  my  repub 
lican  private  end.  You  know  my  early  history.  You  have 
witnessed  my  struggles  to  be  respected  by  my  honorable  contem 
poraries.  If  it  be  my  weakness  to  be  sensitive  to  the  finger  of 
scorn,  be  it  so.  You  will  know  how  to  pardon  me.  But  I  will 
be  brief.  At  a  particular  crisis  of  my  acquaintance  with  Miss 
Dyaper,  I  found  it  expedient  to  transfer  my  untrammelled  ten 
dernesses  to  Pepperidge  street.  My  heart  had  long  been  in 
Pepperidge  street.  But,  gentlemen,'  to  have  done  it  without 
removing  from  before  my  eyes  the  contumelious  finger  of  the  scorn 
of  Sassafras  street,  was  beyond  my  capabilities  of  endurance. 
Injustice  to  my  present  '  future,' gentlemen,  I  felt  that  I  must 
remove  '  sour  grapes  '  from  my  escutcheon — that  I  must  soar  to 
a  point,  whence  swooping  proudly  to  Meena  Dimity,  I  should 
pass  the  Dyapers  in  descending  ! 

(Cheers  and  murmurs.) 

"  Gentlemen  and  friends  !  This  world  is  all  a  fleeting  show. 
The  bell  has  rung,  and  I  keep  you  from  your  suppers.  Briefly. 
I  found  the  means  to  travel  and  test  the  ring  of  my  metal  among 
unprejudiced  strangers.  I  wished  to  achieve  distinction  and 
return  to  my  birthplace  ;  but  for  what  ?  Do  me  justice,  gentle 
men.  Not  to  lord  it  in  Sassafras  street.  Not  to  carry  off  a 
Dyaper  with  triumphant  elation  !  Not  to  pounce  on  your  aristo- 


54  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


cratic  No.  1,  and  link  my  destiny  with  the  disdainful  Dyapers  ! 
No  !  But  to  choose  where  I  liked,  and  have  the  credit  of  liking 
it !  To  have  Slimford  believe  that  if  I  preferred  their  No.  2,  it 
was  because  I  liked  it  better  than  No.  t,  Gentlemen,  I  am  a 
republican  !  I  may  find  my  congenial  spirit  among  the  wealthy 
— I  may  find  it  among  the  humble.  But  I  want  the  liberty  to 
choose.  And  I  have  achieved  it,  I  trust  you  will  permit  me  the 
liberty  to  say.  Having  been  honored  by  the  dignitaries  of  a 
metropolis — having  consorted  with  a  candidate  for  gubernatorial 
distinction — having  been  recorded  in  a  public  journal  as  a  com 
panion  of  the  Vice-President  of  this  free  and  happy  country — 
you  will  believe  me  when  I  declare  that  I  prefer  Pepperidge 
street  to  Sassafras — you  will  credit  my  sincerity,  when,  having 
been  approved  by  the  Dyaper's  betters,  I  give  them  the  go-by 
for  the  Dimitys  !  Gentlemen,  I  have  done." 

The  reader  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that  Mr.  Brown 
Crash  is  now  a  prominent  member  of  the  legislature,  and  an 
excessive  aristocrat — Pepperidge  street  and  very  democratic 
speeches  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 


MRS,  PASSABLE  TROTT, 

"  Je  8uis  coininc  vous.    Je  n'aime  pas  qne  lea  autrcs  soient  heureux.1' 

THE  temerity  with  which  I  hovered  on  the  brink  of  matrimony 
when  a  very  young  man  could  only  be  appreciated  by  a  fatuitous 
credulity.  The  number  of  very  fat  mothers  of  very  plain  families 
who  can  point  me  out  to  their  respective  offspring  as  their  once 
imminent  papa,  is  ludicrously  improbable.  The  truth  was  that  I 
had  a  powerful  imagination  in  my  early  youth,  and  no  "  realizing 
sense."  A  coral  neck-lace,  warm  from  the  wearer — a  shoe  with 
a  little  round  stain  in  the  sole — anything  flannel — a  bitten  rose 
bud  with  the  mark  of  a  tooth  upon  it — a  rose,  a  glove,  a  thimble 
• — either  of  these  was  agony,  ecstasy !  To  anything  with  curls 
and  skirts,  and  especially  if  encircled  by  a  sky-blue  sash,  my 
heart  was  as  prodigal  as  a  Croton  hydrant.  Ah  me  ! 

But,  of  all  my  short  eternal  attachments,  Fidelia  Balch  (since 
Mrs.  P.  Trott)  was  the  kindest  and  fairest.  Faithless  of  course 
she  was,  since  my  name  does  not  begin  with  a  T. — but  if  she  did 
not  continue  to  love  me — P.  Trott  or  no  P.  Trott — she  was 
shockingly  forsworn,  as  can  be  proved  by  several  stars,  usually 
considered  very  attentive  listeners.  I  rather  pitied  poor  Trott — • 
for  I  knew 

"  Her  heart — it  was  another's," 


56  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


and  he  was  rich  and  forty-odd.  But  they  seemed  to  live  very 
harmoniously,  and  if  I  availed  myself  of  such  lifetle  consolations 
as  fell  in  my  way,  it  was  the  result  of  philosophy.  I  never  forgot 
the  faithless  Fidelia. 

This  is  to  be  a  disembowelled  narrative,  dear  reader — skipping 
from  the  maidenhood  of  my  heroine  to  her  widowhood,  fifteen 
years — yet  I  would  have  you  supply  here  and  there  a  betweenity. 
My  own  sufferings  at  seeing  my  adored  Fidelia  go  daily  into  ano 
ther  man's  house  and  shut  the  door  after  her,  you  can  easily  con 
ceive.  Though  not  in  the  habit  of  rebelling  against  human  insti 
tutions,  it  did  seem  to  me  that  the  marriage  ceremony  had  no 
business  to  give  old  Trott  quite  so  much  for  his  money.  But  the 
aggravating  part  of  it  was  to  come  !  Mrs.  P.  Trott  grew  prettier 
every  day,  and  of  course  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  noticeable 
degrees  prettier  every  year !  She  seemed  incapable  of,  or  not 
liable  to,  wear  and  tear  ;  and  probably  old  Trott  was  a  man,  in 
doors,  of  very  even  behavior.  And,  it  should  be  said,  too,  in  ex 
planation,  that,  as  Miss  Balch,  Fidelia  was  a  shade  too  fat  for  her 
model.  She  embellished  as  her  dimples  grew  shallower.  Trifle 
by  trifle,  like  the  progress  of  a  statue,  the  superfluity  fell  away 
from  nature's  original  Miss  Balch  (as  designed  in  Heaven),  and 
when  old  Passable  died  (and  no  one  knew  what  that  P.  stood  for, 
till  it  was  betrayed  by  the  indiscreet,  plate  on  his  coffin)  Mrs. 
Trott,  thirty-three  years  olJ,  was  at  her  maximum  of  beauty. 
Plump,  taper,  transparently  fair,  with  an  arm  like  a  high-con 
ditioned  Venus,  and  a  neck  set  on  like  the  swell  of  a  French 
horn,  she  was  consumedly  good-looking.  When  I  saw  in  the  pa 
per,  "Died,  Mr.  P.  Trott,"  I  went  out  and  walked  past  the 
house,  with  overpowering  emotions.  Thanks  to  a  great  many  re 
fusals,  I  had  been  faithful !  /  could  bring  her  the  same  heart, 


MRS.    PASSABLE   TROTT.  57 

unused  and  undamaged,  which  I  had  offered  her  before  !  I  could 
geneiously  overlook  Mr.  Trott's  temporary  occupation  (since  he 
had  left  us  his  money  \) — and  when  her  mourning  should  be  over 
— the  very  day — the  very  hour — her  first  love  -should  be  ready 
for  her,  good  as  new  ! 

I  have  said  nothing  of  any  evidences  of  continued  attachment 
on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Trott.  She  was  a  discreet  person  and  not 
likely  to  compromise  Mr.  P.  Trott  till  she  knew  the  strength  of 
his  constitution.  But  there  was  one  evidence  of  lingering  prefer 
ence  which  I  built  upon  like  a  rock.  I  had  not  visited  her  during 
these  fifteen  years.  Trott  liked  me  not — you  can  guess  why ! 
But  I  had  a  nephew,  five  years  old  when  Miss  Balch  was  my 
'  privately  engaged,"  and  as  like  me,  that  boy,  as  could  be  cop 
ied  by  nature.  He  was  our  unsuspecting  messenger  of  love,  go 
ing  to  play  in  old  Balch's  garden  when  I  was  forbidden  the  house, 
unconscious  of  the  billet-doux  in  the  pocket  of  his  pinafore ;  and 
to  this  boy,  after  our  separation,  seemed  Fidelia  to  cling.  He 
grew  up  to  a  youth  of  mind  and  manners,  and  still  she  cherished 
him.  He  all  but  lived  at  old  Trott's,  petted  and  made  much  of 
— her  constant  companion — reading,  walking,  riding — indeed, 
when  home  from  college,  her  sole  society.  Are  you  surprised 
that,  in  all  this,  there  was  a  tenderness  of  reminiscence  that 
touched  and  assured  me  ?  Ah — 

"  On  revient  toujours 
A  ses  premiers  amours !" 

I  thought  it  delicate,  and  best,  to  let  silence  do  its  work  dur 
ing  that  year  of  mourning.     I  did  not  whisper  even  to  my  nephew 
Bob  the  secret  of  my  happiness.    I  left  one  card  ot  condolence 
3* 


58  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


after  old  Trott's  funeral,  and  lived  private,  counting  the  hours 
The  slowest  kind  of  eternity  it  appeared ! 

The  morning  never  seemed  to  me  to  break  with  so  much  diffi 
culty  and  reluctance  as  on  the  anniversary  of  the  demise  of  Mr. 
Passable  Trott — June  2,  1840.  Time  is  a  comparative  thing,  I 
well  know,  but  the  minutes  seemed  to  stick,  on  that  interminable 
morning.  I  began  to  dre*ss  for  breakfast  at  four — but  details  are 
tiresome.  Let  me  assure  you  that  twelve  o'clock,  A.  M.,  did 
arrive !  The  clocks  struck  it,  and  the  shadows  verified  it. 

I  could  not  have  borne  an  accidental  "  not  at  home,"  and  I  re 
solved  not  to  run  the  risk  of  it.  Lovers,  besides,  are  not  tied  to 
knockers  and  ceremony.  I  bribed  the  gardener.  Fidelia's  bou 
doir,  I  knew,  opened  upon  the  lawn,  and  it  seemed  more  like  love 
to  walk  in.  She  knew — I  knew — Fate"  and  circumstance  knew 
and  had  ordained— that  that  morning  was  to  be  shoved  up,  joined 
on,  and  dovetailed  to  our  last  separation.  The  time  between  was 
to  be  a  blank.  Of  course  she  expected  me. 

The  garden  door  was  ajar — as  paid  for.  I  entered,  traversed 
the  vegetable  beds,  tripped  through  the  flower-walk,  and — oh 
bliss  ! — the  window  was  open  !  I  could  just  see  the  Egyptian  urn 
on  its  pedestal  of  sphinxes,  into  which  I  knew  (per  Bob)  she  threw 
all  her  fading  roses.  I  glided  near.  I  looked  in  at  the  window. 

Ah,  that  picture !  She  sat  with  her  back  to  me — her  arm — 
that  arm  of  rosy  alabaster — thrown  carelessly  over  her  chair — 
her  egg-shell  chin  resting  on  her  other  thumb  and  forefinger — 
her  eyelids  sweeping  her  cheek — and  a  white — yes  !  a  white  bow 
in  her  hair.  And  her  dress  was  of  snowy  lawn — white,  bridal 
white  !  Adieu,  old  Passable  Trott ! 

I  wipod  my  eyes  and  looked  again.  Old  Trott's  portrait  huug 
on  the  wall,  but  that  was  nothing.  Her  guitar  lay  on  the  table, 


MRS  PASSABLE  TROTT.  59 

and — did  I  see  aright? — a  miniature  just  beside  it !  Perhaps  of 
old  Trott — taken  out  foF  the  last  time.  Well — well !  He  was 
a  very  respectable  man,  and  had  been  very  kind  to  her,  most 
likely. 

"  Ehem  !"  said  I,  stepping  over  the  Bill,  "  Fidelia  !" 

She  started  and  turned,  and  certainly  looked  surprised. 

«Mr.  G !"  said  she. 

"  It  is  long  since  we  parted  !"  I  said,  helping  myself  to  u  ^ 

"  Quite  long  !"  said  Fidelia. 

"  So  long  that  you  have  forgotten  the  name  of  G ?"  I  ask 
ed,  tremulously. 

"  Oh  no  !'J  she  replied,  covering  up  the  miniature  on  the  table 
by  a,  careless  movement  of  her  scarf. 

"  And  may  I  hope  that  that  nauie  has  not  grown  distasteful  to 
you  ?"  I  summoned  courage  to  say. 

"  N no  !     Ido  not  know  that  it  has,  Mr.  G !" 

The  blood  returned  to  my  fainting  heart !  I  felt  as  in  days 
of  yore. 

"  Fidelia  !;'  said  I,  "  let  me  not  waste  the  precious  moments. 
You  loved  me  at  twenty — may  I  hope  that  I  may  stand  to  you 
in  a  nearer  relation  !  May  I  venture  to  think  that  our  family  is 

not  unworthy  of  a  union  with  the  Balches  ? — that,  as  Mrs.  G , 

you  could  be  happy  ?" 

Fidelia  looked — hesitated — took  up  the  miniature,  and  clasped 
it  to  her  breast. 

"Do  I  understand  you  rightly,  Mr.  G !"  she  tremulously 

exclaimed.  "  But  I  think  1  do  !  I  remember  well  what  you 
were  at  twenty  !  This  picture  is  like  what  you  were  then — with 
differences,  it  is  true,  but  still  like '  Dear  picture  !"  she  exclaim 
ed  again,  kissing  it  with  rapture. 


CO  FUN   JOTTINGS. 

(How  could  she    have    got  my  miniature  ? — but  no  matter — 
taken  by  stealth,  I  presume.     Sweet  and  eager  anticipation  !) 

"And  Robert  has  returned  from  college,  then  :»  she  said,  in 
quiringly. 

"Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  I. 

"  Indeed ! — then  he  has  written  to  you  !" 

"  Not  recently !" 

"Ah,  poor   boy!  he   anticipated!  Well,  Mr.  G- !  I  will 

not  affect  to  be  coy  where  my  heart  has  been  so  long  interested." 

(I  stood  ready  to  clasp  her  to  my  bosom.) 

"Tell  Robert  my  mourning  is  over — tell  him  his  name  "  (the 

name  of  G ,  of  course)  "is  the  music  of  my  life,  and  that  I 

will  marry  whenever  he  pleases  !" 

A  horrid  suspicion  crossed  my  mind. 

"  Pardon  me !"  said  I ;  "  whenever  he  pleases,  did  you  say  ? 
Why,  particularly,  when  /te  pleases?" 

u  La !  his  not  being  of  age  is  no  impediment,  I  hope  !"  said 
Mrs.  Trott,  with  some  surprise.  "  Look  at  his  miniature,  Mr. 

G !     It  has  a  boyish   look,  it's  true — but  so  had  you — at 

twenty !" 

Hope  sank  within  me !  I  would  have  given  worlds  to  be  away. 
The  truth  was  apparent  to  me — perfectly  apparent.  She  loved 
that  boy  Bob — that  child — that  mere  child — and  meant  to  marry 
him  !  Yet  how  could  it  be  possible  !  I  might  be — yes — I 
must  be,  mistaken.  Fidelia  Balch — who  was  a  woman  when  he 
was  an  urchin  in  petticoats  !  she  to  think  of  marrying  that  boy ! 
I  wronged  her — oh  I  wronged  her!  But,  worst  come  to  the 
worst,  there  was  no  harm  in  having  it  perfectly  understood. 

"  Pardon  me !''  said  I,  putting  on  a  look  as  if  I  expected  a 
shout  of  laughter  for  the  mere  supposition,  "  I  should  gather — 


MRS.  PASSABLE  TROTT.  61 


(categorically,  mind  you! — only  categorically) — I  should  gather 
from  what  you  said  just  now — (had  I  been  a  third  person  listen 
ing,  that  is  to  say — with  no  knowledge  of  the  parties) — I  should 
really  have  gathered  that  Bob— little  Bob — was  the  happy  man, 
and  not  I !  Now  don't  laugh  at  me  !" 

"  You  the   happy  man  ! — Oh,  Mr.   G !    you  are  joking ! 

Oh  no  !  pardon  me  if  I  have  unintentionally  misled  you — but  if  I 

marry  again,  Mr.  G -,  it  will  be  a  young  man !  !  f     In  short, 

not  to  mince  the  matter,  Mr.  G ,  your  nephew  is  to  become 

my  husband  (nothing  unforeseen  turning  up)  in  the  course  of  the 
next  week  !  We  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  at  the 
wedding,  of  course  !  Oh  no  !  You !  I  should  fancy  that  no 

woman  would  make  two  unequal  marriages,  Mr.  G .     Good 

morning,  Mr.  G !" 

I  was  left  alone,  and  to  return  as  I  pleased,  by  the  vegetable 
garden  or  the  front  door.  I  chose  the  latter,  being  somewhat 
piqued  as  well  as  inexpressibly  grieved  and  disappointed.  But 
philosophy  came  to  my  aid,  and  I  soon  fell  into  a  mood  of  spe 
culation. 

"Fidelia  is  constant!"  said  I  to  myself — "constant,  after  all ! 
She  made  up  her  mouth  for  me  at  twenty.  But  I  did  not  stay 
twenty  !  Oh  no  !  I,  unadvisedly,  and  without  preparatively  cul 
tivating  her  taste  for  thirty-five,  became  thirty-five.  And  now 
what  was  she  to  do  ?  Her  taste  was  not  at  all  embarked  in  Pas 
sable  Trott,  and  it  stayed  just  as  it  was — waiting  to  be  called  up 
and  used.  She  locks  it  up  decently  till  old  Trott  dies,  and  then 
reproduces — what  ?  Why,  just  what  she  locked  up — a  taste  for 
a  young  man  at  twenty — and  just  such  a  young  man  as  she  loved 
when  she  was  twenty  !  Bob — of  course  !  Bob  is  like  me — Bob 
is  twenty  !  Be  Bob  her  husband  ! 

But  I  cannot  say  I  quite  like  such  constancy  ! 


THE  SPIRIT-LOVE  OF  "IONE  S- 


(SINCE    DISCOVERED    TO    BE    MISS   JONES.) 

NOT  long  ago,  but  before  poetry  and  pin-money  were  discover 
ed  to  be  cause  and  effe.ct,  Miss  Phebe  Jane  Jones  was  one  of  the 
most  charming  contributors  to  a  certain  periodical  now  gone  over 

"Lethe's  wharf."  Her  signature  was  "lone  S !"  a  neat 

anagram,  out  of  which  few  would  have  picked  the  monosyllable 
engraved  upon  her  father's  brass  knocker.  She  wrote  mostly  in 
verse  ;  but  her  prose,  of  which  you  will  presently  see  a  specimen 
or  two,  was  her  better  vein — as  being  more  easily  embroidered, 
and  not  cramped  with  the  inexorable  fetters  of  rhyme.  Miss 
Jones  abandoned  authorship  before  the  New  Mirror  was  estab 
lished,  or  she  would,  doubtless,  have  been  one  of  its  paid  contri 
butors — as  much  ("we"  flatter  ourselves)  as  could  well  be  said 
of  her  abilities. 

The  beauty  of  hectics  and  hollow  chests  has  been  written  out 
of  fashion ;  so  I  may  venture  upon  the  simple  imagery  of  truth 
and  nature.  Miss  Jones  was  as  handsome  as  a  prize  heifer. 
She  was  a  compact,  plump,  wholesome,  clean-limbed,  beautifully- 
marked  animal,  with  eyes  like  inkstands  running  over,  and  a 
mouth  that  looked,  when  she  smiled,  as  if  it  had  never  been  open- 


THE  SPIRIT-LOVE  OF  "IONE  S »  63 


ed  before,  the  teeth  seemed  so  fresh  and  unhandled.  Her  voice 
had  a  tone  clear  as  the  ring  of  a  silver  dollar  ;  and  her  lungs 
must  have  been  as  sound  as  a  pippin,  for  when  she  laughed 
(which  she  never  did  unless  she  was  surprised  into  it,  for  she  lov 
ed  melancholy),  it  was  like  the  gurgling  of  a  brook  over  the  peb 
bles.  The  bran-new  people  made  by  Deucalion  and  Pyrrha, 
when  it  cleared  up  after  the  flood,  were  probably  in  Miss  Jones's 
style. 

But  do  you  suppose  that  "  lone  S "  cared  any  thing  for 

her  good  looks  !  What — value  the  poor  perishing  tenement 
in  which  nature  had  chosen  to  lodge  her  intellectual  and  spiritual 
part !  What — care  for  her  covering  of  clay  !  What — waste 
thought  on  the  chain  that  kept  her  from  the  Pleiades,  of  which, 
perhaps,  she  was  the  lost  sister  (who  knows)  ?  And,  more  than 
all — oh  gracious  ! — to  be  loved  for  this  trumpery-drapery  of  her 
immortal  essence  ! 

Yes — infra  dig.  as  it  may  seem  to  record  such  an  unworthy 
trifle — the  celestial  Phebe  had  the  superfluity  of  an  every-day 
lover.  Gideon  Flimmins  was  willing  to  take  her  on  her  outer 
inventory  alone.  He  loved  her  cheeks — he  did  not  hesitate  to 
admit  !  He  loved  her  lips — he  could  not  help  specifying  !  He 
had  been  known  to  name  her  shoulders  !  And,  in  taking  out  a 
thorn  for  her  with  a  pair  of  tweezers  one  day,  he  had  literally 
exclaimed  with  rapture  that  she  had  a  heavenly  little  pink  thumb. 

But  of  "  lone  S "  he  had  never  spoken  a  word.  No,  though 

she  read  him  faithfully  every  effusion  that  appeared — asked  his 

opinion  of  every  separate  stanza — talked  of  "  lone  S "  as  the 

person  on  earth  she  most  wished  to  see  (for  she  kept  her  literary 
incog.) — Gideon  had  never  alluded  to  her  a  second  time,  and 
perseveringly,  hatefully,  atrociously,  and  with  mundane  motive 


64  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


only,  be  made  industrious  love  to  the  outride  and  visible  Phebe  ! 
Well!  \Vell! 

Contiguity  is  something,  in  love  ;  and  the  Flimminses  were 
neighbors  of  the  Joneses.  Gideon  had  another  advantage — for 
Ophelia  Flimmins,  his  eldest  sister,  was  Miss  Jones's  eternally 
attached  friend.  To  explain  this,  I  must  trouble  the  reader  to 
take  notice  that  there  were  two  streaks  in  the  Flimmins  family.' 
Fat  Mrs.  Flimmins,  the  mother  (who  had  been  dead  a  year),  was 
a  thorough  "  man  of  business,"  and  it  was  to  her  downright  and 
upright  management  of  her  husband's  wholesale  and  retail  hat- 
lining  establishment,  that  the  family  owed  its  prosperity  ;  for 
Ileredotus  Flimmius,  whose  name  was  on  the  sign,  was  a  flimsy- 
ish  kind  of  sighing-dying  man,  and  nobody  could  ever  find  out 
what  on  earth  he  wanted.  Gideon  and  the  two  fleshy  Miss 
Flimminses  took  after  their  mother,  but  Ophelia,  whose  semi- 
translucent  frame  was  the  envy  of  her  faithful  Phebe,  was,  with 
very  trifling  exceptions,  the  perfect  model  of  her  sire.  She 
devotedly  loved  the  moon.  She  had  her  preferences  among  the 
stars  of  heaven.  She  abominated  the  garish  sun.  And  she  and 
Phebe  met  by  night — on  the  sidewalk  around  their  mutual 
nearest  corner — deeply  veiled  to  conceal  their  emotion  from  the 
intruding  gaze  of  such  stars  as  they  were  not  acquainted  with — 
and  there  they  communed  ! 

I  never  knew,  nor  have  I  any  the  remotest  suspicion  of  the 
reasoning  by  which  these  commingled  spirits  arrived  at  the  con 
clusion  that  there  was  a  want  in  their  delicious  union.  They 
might  have  known,  indeed,  that  the  chain  of  bliss,  ever  so  far 
extended,  breaks  off  at  last  with  an  imperfect  link — that 
though  mustard  and  ham  may  turn  two  slices  of  innocent  bread 
into  a  sandwich,  there  will  still  be  an  uubuttered  outside.  But 


THE  SPIRIT-LOVE  OF  "  IONE  S ."  65 

tliey  were  young — they  were  sanguine.  Phebe,  at  least,  believed 
that  in  the  regions  of  space  there  existed — "  wandering  but  not 
lost" — the  aching  worser  half  of  which  she  was  the  "  better" — 
some  lofty  intellect,  capable  of  sounding  the  unfathomable  abysses 
of  hers — some  male  essence,  all  soul  and  romance,  with  whom  she 
could  soar  finally,  arm-in-arm,  to  their  native  star,  with  no 
changes  of  any  consequence  between  their  earthly  and  their 
astral  communion.  It  occurred  to  her,  at  last,  that  a  letter  ad 
dressed  to  him,  through  her  favorite  periodical,  might  possibly 
reach  his  eye.  The  following  (which  the  reader  may  very  likely 
remember  to  have  seen)  appeared  in  the  paper  of  the  following 
Saturday  : — 

"  To  my  spirit-husband,  greeting  : — 

"  Where  art  thou,  bridegroom  of  my  soul  ?     Thy  lone  S 

calls  to  thee  from  the  aching  void  of  her  lonely  spirit !  What 
name  bearest  thou  ?  What  path  walkest  thou  ?  How  can  I, 
glow-worm  like,  lift  my  wings  and  show  thee  my  lamp  of  guiding 
love  ?  Thus  wing  I  these  words  to  thy  dwelling-place  (for  thou 

art,   perhaps,   a   subscriber   to   the    M r).     Go — truants  ! 

Rest  not  till  ye  meet  his  eye. 

"  But  I  must  speak  to  thee  after  the  manner  of  this  world. 

"  I  am  a  poetess  of  eighteen  summers.  Eighteen  weary  years 
have  I  worn  this  prison-house  of  flesh,  in  which,  when  torn  from 
thee,  I  was  condemned  to  wander.  But  my  soul  is  untamed  by 
its  cage  of  darkness  !  I  remember,  and  remember  only,  the  lost 
husband  of  iny  spirit-world.  I  perform,  coldly  and  scornfully, 
the  unheavenly  necessities  of  this  temporary  existence  ;  and  from 
the  windows  of  my  prison  (black — like  the  glimpses  of  the  mid 
night  heaven  they  let  in)  I  look  out  for  the  coming  of  my  spirit- 
lord.  Lonely  !  lonely  ! 


60  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

"  Thou  wouldst  know,  perhaps,  what  semblance  I  bear  since 
my  mortal  separation  from  thee.  Alas !  the  rose,  not  the  lily, 
reigns  upon  my  cheek  !  I  would  not  disappoint  thee,  though  of 
that  there  is  little  fear,  for  thou  lovest  for  the  spirit  only.  But 
believe  not,  because  health  holds  me  rudely  down,  and  I  seem 
not  fragile  and  ready  to  depart — believe  not,  oh  bridegroom  of 
my  soul !  that  I  bear  willingly  my  flesHly  fetter,  or  endure  with 
patience  the  degrading  homage  to  its  beauty.  For  there  are 
soulless  worms  who  think  me  fair.  Ay — in  the  strength  and 
freshness  of  my  corporeal  covering,  there  are  those  who  rejoice  ! 
Oh  !  mockery  !  mockery  ! 

"  List  to  me,  Ithuriel  (for  I  must  have  a  name  to  call  thee  by, 
and,  till  thou  breathest  thy  own  seraphic  name  into  my  ear,  be 
thou  Ithuriel)  !  List !  I  would  meet  thee  in  the  darkness  only  ! 
Thou  shalt  not  see  me  with  thy  mortal  eyes  !  Penetrate  the 
past,  and  remember  the  smoke-curl  of  wavy  lightness  in  which  I 
floated  to  thy  embrace !  Remember  the  sunset-cloud  to  which 
we  retired  ;  the  starry  lamps  that  hung  over  our  slumbers !  And 
on  the  softest  whisper  of  our  voices  let  thy  thoughts  pass  to  mine ! 
Speak  not  aloud  !  Murmur  !  murmur  !  murmur  ! 

"  Dost  thou  know,  Ithuriel,  I  would  faia  prove  to  thee  my 
freedom  from  the  trammels  of  this  world  !  In  what  chance  shape 
thy  accident  of  clay  may  be  cast,  I  know  not.  Ay,  and  I  care 
not !  I  would  thou  wert  a  hunchback,  Ithuriel !  I  would  thou 
wert  disguised  as  a  monster,  my  spirit-husband  !  So  would  I 
prove  to  thee  my  elevation  above  mortality  !  So  would  I  show 
thee,  that  in  the  range  of  eternity  for  which  we  are  wedded,  a 
moment's  covering  darkens  thee  not — that,  like  a  star  sailing 
through  a  cloud,  thy  brightness  is  remembered  while  it  is  eclipsed 
— that  thy  lone  would  recognize  thy  voice,  be  aware  of  thy 


THE  SPIRIT-LOVE  OF  "  IONE  S >  67 


presence,  adore  thee,  as  she  was  celestially  wont — ay,  though 
thou  wdrt  imprisoned  in  the  likeness  of  a  reptile  !  lone  care  for 
mortal  beauty  !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! — Ha  !  ha !  ha  ! 

"  Come  to  me,  Ithuriel  !  My  heart  writhes  in  its  cell  for  con 
verse  with  thee  !  I  am  sick-thoughted  !  My  spirit  wrings  its 
thin  fingers  to  play  with  thy  ethereal  hair !  My  earthly  cheek, 
though  it  obstinately  refuses  to  pale,  tingles  with  fever  for  thy 
coming.  Glide  to  me  in  the  shadow  of  eve — softly  !  softly  ! 

"  Address  *  P  '  at -the  M r  office. 

"  Thine,  "  IONE  S " 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

There  came  a  letter  to  "P." 

*  ***** 

It  was  an  inky  night.  The  moon  was  in  her  private  chamber. 
The  stars  had  drawn  over  their  heads  the  coverlet  of  clouds  and 
pretended  to  sleep.  The  street  lamps  heartlessly  burned  on. 

Twelve  struck  with  "  damnable  iteration." 

On  tiptoe  and  with  beating  heart,  Phebe  Jane  left  her  father's 
area.  Ophelia  Flimmins  followed  her  at  a  little  distance,  for 
lone  was  going  to  meet  her  spirit-bridegroom,  and  receive  a 
renewal  of  his  ante-vital  vows ;  and  she  wished  her  friend,  the 
echo  of  her  soul,  to  overhear  and  witness  them.  For  oh — if 
words  were  anything — if  the  soul  could  be  melted  and  poured, 
lava-like,  upon  "  satin  post" — if  there  was  truth  in  feelings  mag 
netic  and  prophetic — then  was  he  who  had  responded  to,  and 

corresponded  with,  lone  S (she  writing  to  "  I,"  and  he  to 

"  P"),  the  ideal  for  whom  she  had  so  long  sighed — the  lost  half 
of  the  whole  so  mournfully  incomplete — her  soul's  missing  and 
once  spiritually  Siamesed  twin !  His  sweet  letters  had  echoed 
every  sentiment  of  her  heart.  He  had  agreed  with  her  that 


68  1  L:N  JOTTINGS. 

outside  was  nothing — that  earthly  beauty  was  poor,  perishing, 
pitiful — that  nothing  that  could  be  seen,  touched,  or  described, 
had  anything  to  do  with  the  spiritually-passionate  intercourse  to 
which  their  respective  essences  achingly  yearned — that,  unseen, 
unheard,  save  in  whispers  faint  as  a  rose's  sigh  when  languishing 
at  noon,  they  might  meet  in  communion  blissful,  superhuman, 
and  satisfactory. 

Yet  where  fittingly  to  meet — oh  agony  !  agony  ! 

The  street-lamps  two  squares  off  had  been  taken  up  to  lay 
down  gas.  Ophelia  Flimmins  had  inwardly  marked  it.  Between 
No.  126  and  No.  132,  more  particularly,  the  echoing  sidewalk 
was  bathed  in  unfathomable  night — for  there  were  vacant  lots 
occupied  as  a  repository  for  used-up  omnibuses.  At  the  most 
lonely  point  there  stood  a  tree,  and,  fortunately,  this  night,  in  the 
gutter  beneath  the  tree,  stood  a  newly-disabled  'bus  of  the  Knick 
erbocker  line — and  (sweet  omen  !)  it  was  blue  !  In  this  covert 
could  the  witnessing  Ophelia  lie  perdu,  observing  unseen  through 
the  open  door  ;  and  beneath  this  tree  was  to  take  place  the  meet-, 
ing  of  souls — the  re-interchange  of  sky-born  vows — the  immate 
rial  union  of  Ithurial  and  lone  !  Bliss  !  bliss  ! — exquisite  to 
anguish. 

But — oh  incontinent  vessel — Ophelia  had  blabbed.  The  two 
fat  Miss  Flimminses  were  in  the  secret — nay,  more — they  were 
in  the  omnibus !  Ay — deeply  in,  and  portentously  silent,  they 
sat,  warm  and  wondering,  on  either  side  of  the  lamp,  probably 
extinguished  for  ever  !  They  knew  not  well  what  was  to  be. 
But  whatever  sort  of  thing  was  a  "  marriage  of  soul,"  and 
whether  "  Ithuriel "  was  body  or  nobody — mortal  man  or  angel 
in  a  blue  scarf — the  Miss  Flimminses  wished  to  see  him.  Half 
an  hour  before  the  trysting-tune  they  had  fanned  their  way  thither, 


•THE  SPIRIT-LOVE  OF  "IONE  S .»  59 


for  a  thunder-storm  was  in  the  air  and  the  night  was  intolerably 
close  ;  and,  climbing  into  the  omnibus,  they  reciprocally  loosened 
each  other's  upper  hook,  and  with  their  moistened  collars  laid 
starchless  in  their  laps,  awaited  the  opening  of  the  mystery. 

Enter  Ophelia,  as  expected.  She  laid  her  thin  hand  upon  the 
leather  string,  and,  drawing  the  door  after  her,  leaned  out  of  its 
open  window  in  breathless  suspense  and  agitation. 

Tone's  step  was  now  audible,  returning  from  132.  Slowly  she 
came,  but  invisibly,  for  it  had  grown  suddenly  pitch-dark ;  and 
only  the  far-off  lamps,  up  and  down  the  street,  served  to  guide 
her  footsteps.  • 

But  hark  !  the  sound  of  a  heel !  He  came  !  They  met ! 
He  passed  his  arm  around  her  ami  drew  her  beneath  the  tree — 
and  with  whispers,  soft  and  low,  leaned  breathing  to  her  ear.  He 
was  tall.  He  was  in  a  cloak.  And,  oh  extasy,  he  was  thin  ! 
But  thinkest  thou  to  know,  oh  reader  of  dust,  what  passed  on 
those  ethereal  whispers  ?  Futile — futile  curiosity !  Even  to 
Ophelia's  straining  ear,  those  whispers  were  inaudible. 

But  hark  !  a  rumble  !  Something  wrong  in  the  bowels  of  the 
sky  !  And  pash  !  pash ! — on  the  resounding  roof  of  the  omni 
bus — fell  drops  of  rain — fitfully  !  fitfully  ! 

"  My  dear  !"  whispered  Ophelia  (for  lone  had  borrowed  her 
chip  hat,  the  better  to  elude  recognition),  "  ask  Ithuriel  to  step 
in." 

Ithuriel  started  to  find  a  witness  near,  but  a  whisper  from 
lone  reassured  him,  and  gathering  his  cloak  around  his  face,  he 
followed  his  spirit-bride  into  the  'bus. 

The  fat  Miss  Flimminses  contracted  their  orbed  shapes,  and 
made  themselves  small  against  the  padded  extremity  of  the 
vehicle  ;  Ophelia  retreated  to  the  middle,  and,  next  the  door,  on 


70  FUN   JOTTINGS. 


either  side,  sat  the  starry  bride  and  bridegroom — all  breathlessly 
silent.  Yet  there  was  a  murmur — for  five  hearts  beat  within 
that  'bus's  duodecimal  womb ;  and  the  rain  pelted  on  the  roof, 
pailsful-like  and  unpityingly. 

But  slap !  dash  !  whew  !  heavens  ! — In  rushed  a  youth,  drip 
ping,  dripping  ! 

"  Get  out !"  cried  lone,  over  whose  knees  he  drew  himself  like 
an  eel  pulled  through  a  basket  of  contorted  other  eels. 

Come,  come,  young  man  !"  said  a  deep  bass  voice,  of  which 
everybody  had  some  faint  remembrance. 

"  Oh  !"  cried  one  fat  Miss  Flimmins. 

"  Ah  !"  screamed  the  other. 

"  What — dad  !"  exclaimed  Gideon  Flimmins,  who  had  dashed 
into  the  sheltering  'bus  to  save  his  new  hat — "  dad  here  with  a 
girl !" 

But  the  fat  Flimminses  were  both  in  convulsions.  Scream  ! 
scream  !  scream  ! 

A  moment  of  confusion  !  The  next  moment  a  sudden  light ! 
A  watchman  with  his  lantern  stootf  at  the  door. 

"  Papa  !"  ejaculated  three  of  the  ladies. 

"  Old  Flimmins ! — my  heart  will  burst !"  murmured  lone. 

The  two  fat  girls  hurried  on  their  collars ;  and  Gideon,  all 
amazement  at  finding  himself  in  such  a  family  party  at  midnight 
in  a  lonely  'bus,  stepped  out  und  entered  into  converse  with  the 
guardian  of  the  night. 

The  rain  stopped  suddenly,  and  the  omnibus  gave  up  its  homo 
geneous  contents.  Old  Flimmins,  who  was  in  a  violent  perspira 
tion,  gave  Gideon  his  cloak  to  carry,  and  his  two  arms  to  his 
two  pinguid  adult  pledges.  Gideon  took  Ophelia  and  Phebe,  and 
they  mizzled.  Mockery  !  mockery  ! 


THE  SPIRIT-LOVE  OF  "IONE  S 


lone  is  not  yet  gone  to  the  spirit-sphere  —  kept  here  partly  by 
the  fleshy  fetter  over  which  she  mourned,  and  partly  by  the  dove 
tailed  duties  consequent  upon  annual  Flimminses.  Gideon  loves 
her  after  the  manner  of  this  world  —  but  she  sighs  "when  she 
hears  sweet  music,"  that  her  better  part  is  still  unappreciated  —  • 
unfathomed  —  "  cabined,  cribbed,  confined  !" 


THE  GHOST-BALL  AT  CONGRESS  HALL, 

IT  was  the  last  week  of  September,  and  the  keeper  of  "  Con 
gress  hall"  stood  on  his  deserted  colonnade.  The  dusty  street  of 
Saratoga  was  asleep  in  the  ^tillness  of  village  afternoon.  The 
whittlings  of  the  stage-runners  at  the  corners,  and  around  the 
leaning  posts,  were  fading  into  dingy  undistinguishahleness.  Stiff 
and  dry  hung  the  slop-cloths  at  the  door  of  .the  livery  stable,  and 
drearily  clean  was  doorway  and  stall.  "  The  season  "  was  over. 

"  Well,  Mr.  B !"  said  the  Boniface  of  the  great  caravan 
sary,  to  a  gentlemanly-looking  invalid,  crossing  over  from  the 
village  tavern  on  his  way  to  Congress  spring,  "  this  looks  like  the 

end  of  it !  A  slimmish  season,  though,  Mr.  B !  'Gad, 

things  isn't  as  they  used  to  be  in  your  time  !  Three  months  we 
used  to  have  of  it,  in  them  days,  and  the  same  people  coming  and 
going  all  summer,  and  folks'  own  horses,  and  all  the  ladies  drink 
ing  champagne  !  And  every  '  hop'  was  as  good  as  a  ball,  and  a 
ball — when  do  you  ever  see  such  balls  now-a-days  ?  Why,  here's 
all  my  best  wines  in  the  cellar  ;  and  as  to  beauty — pooh  ! — they're 
done  coming  here,  anyhow,  are  the  belles,  such  as  belles  was  /" 

"  You  may  say  that,  mine  host,  you  may  say  that !"  replied 


THE  GHOST-BALL  AT  CONGRESS  HALL.  "73 

the  damaged  Corydon,  leaning  heavily  on  his  cane, — "  what — 
they're  all  gone,  now,  eh — nobody  at  the  '  United  States  ?" ' 

"  Not  a  soul — and  here's  weather  like  August ! — capital  weather 
for  young  ladies  to  walk  out  evenings,  and,  for  a  drive  to  Ba.r- 
heighfll — nothing  like  it !  It's  a  sin,  /  say,  to  pass  such  weather 
in  the  city !  Why  shouldn't  they  come  to  the  springs  in  the 
Indian  summer,  Mr.  B- ?" 

Coming  events  seemed  to  have  cast  their  shadows  before.  As 
Boniface  turned  his  eyes  instinctively  toward  the  sand  hill,  whose 
cloud  of  dust  was  the  precursor  01  new  pilgrims  to  the  waters, 
and  the  sign  for  the  black  boy  to  ring  the  bell  of  arrival,  behold, 
on  its  summit,  gleaming  through  the  nebulous  pyramid,  b'ke  a 
lobster  through  the  steam  of  the  fisherman's  pot,  one  of  the  red 
coaches  of  "  the  People's  Line." 

And  another  ! 

And  another  ! 

And  another ! 

Down  the  sandy  descent  came  the  first,  while  the  driver's  horn, 
intermittent  with  the  crack  of  his  whip,  set  to  bobbing  every  pine 
coue  of  the  adjacent  wilderness. 

"  Prr — ru — te — too — toot— pash  ! — crack  ! — snap  ! — prrr — r 
— rut— rut— n-ut  !  !  G'lang  ! — Hip  !» 

Boniface  laid  his  hand  on  the  pull  of  the  porter's  bell,  but  the 
thought  flashed  through  his  mind  that  he  might  have  been  dream 
ing — was  he  awake  ? 

And,  marvel  upon  wonder  ! — a  horn  of  arrival  from  the  other 

end  of  the  village  !     And  as  he  turned  his  eyes  in  that  direction, 

he     saw   the    dingier   turnouts    from    Lake   Sacrament — extras, 

wagons,  every  variety  of  rattletrap  conveyance — pouring  in  like 

4 


f4  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

an  Irish  funeral  on  the  return,  and  making  (oh,  climax  more 
satisfactory  !)  straight,  all,  for  Congress  Hall ! 

Events  now  grew  precipitate — 

Ladies  were  helped  out  with  green  veils — parasols  and  baskets 
were  handed  after  them — baggage  was  chalked  and  distributed — 
(and  parasols,  baskets,  and  baggage,  be  it  noted,  were  all  of  the 
complexion  that  innkeepers  love,  the  indefinable  look  which  betrays 
the  owner's  addictedness  to  extras) — and  now  there  was  ringing 
of  bells  ;  and  there  were  orders  for  the  woodcocks  to  be  dressed 
with  pork  chemises,  and  for  the  champagne  to  be  iced,  the  sherry 
not — and  through  the  arid  corridors  of  Congress  Hall  floated  a 
delicious  toilet  air  of  cold  cream  and  lavender — and  ladies'  maids 
came  down  to  press  out  white  dresses,  while  the  cook  heated  the 
curling  irons — and  up  and  down  the  stairs  flitted,  with  the  blest 
confusion  of  other  days,  boots  and  iced  sangarees,  hot  water, 
towels,  and  mint-juleps — all  delightful,  but  all  incomprehensible  ! 
Was  the  summer  encored,  or  had  the  Jews  gone  buck  to  Jeru 
salem  ?  To  the  keeper  of  Congress  Hall  the  restoration  of  the 
millcnium  would  have  been  a  rush-light  to  this  second  advent  of 
fun-and-fashion-dom  ! 

Thus  far  we  have  looked  through  the  eyes  of  the  person 
(pockct-ually  speaking)  most  interested  in  the  singular  event  we 
wished  to  describe.  Let  us  now  (tea  being  over,  and  your 
astonishment  having  had  time  to  breathe)  take  the  devil's  place  at 
the  elbow  of  the  invalided  dandy  before-mentioned,  and  follow  him 
over  to  Congress  Hall.  It  was  a  mild  night,  and,  as  I  said 
before  (or  meant  to,  if  I  did  not),  August  having  been  pre 
maturely  cut  off  by  his  raining  successor,  seemed  up  again,  like 
Hamlet's  governor,  and  bent  on  walking  out  his  time. 

Rice  (you  remember  Rice — famous  fur  his  lemonades  with  a. 


THE  GHOST-BALL  AT  CONGRESS  HALL.  75 


corrective) — Rice,  having  nearly  ignited  his  forefinger  with 
charging  wines  at  dinner,  was  out  to  cool  on  the  colonnade,  and 

B ,  not  strong  enough  to  stand  about,  drew  a  chair  near  the 

drawing-room  window,  and  begged  the  rosy  barkeeper  to  throw 
what  light  he  could  upon  the  multitudinous  apparition.  Rice 
could  only  feed  the  fire  of  his  wonder  with  the  fuel  of  additional 
circumstances.  Coaches  had  been  arriving  from  every  direction  till 
the  house  was  full.  The  departed  black  band  had  been  stopped 
at  Albany,  and  sent  back.  There  seemed  no  married  people  in 
the  party — at  least,  judging  by  dress  and  flirtation.  Here  and 
there  a  belle,  a  little  on  the  wane,  but  all  most  juvenescent  in 
gayety,  and  (Rice  thought)  handsomer  girls  than  had  been  at 
Congress  Hall  since  the  days  of  the  Albany  regency  (the  regency 
of  beauty),  ten  years  ago!  Indeed,  it  struck  Rice  that  he  had 
seen  the  faces  of  these  lovely  girls  before,  though  they  whom  he 
thought  they  resembled  had  long  since  gone  off  the  stage — grand 
mothers,  some  of  them,  now  ! 

Rice  had  been  told,  also,  that  there  was  an  extraordinary  and 
overwhelming  arrival  of  children  and  nurses  at  the  Pavilion. 
Hotel,  but  he  thought  the  report  smelt  rather  like  a  jealous 
figment  of  the  Pavilioners.  Odd,  if  true— that's  all ! 

Mr.  B had  taken  his  seat  on  the  colonnade,  as  Shakespere 

expresses  it,  "  about  cock-shut  time" — twilight — and  in  the 
darkness  made  visible  of  the  rooms  within,  he  could  only  distin 
guish  the  outline  of  some  very  exquisite,  and  exquisitely  plump 
figures  gliding  to  and  fro,  winged,  each  one,  with  a  pair  of  rather 
stoutish,  but  most  attentive  admirers.  As  the  curfew  hour  stole 
away,  however,  the  ladies  stole  away  with  it,  to  dress ;  and  at  ten 
o'clock  the  sudden  outbreak  of  the  full  band  in  a  mazurka,  drew 
Mr.  B 's  attention  to  tho  dining-room  frontage  of  the 


70  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


colonnade,  and,  moving  his  chair  to  one  of  the  windows,  the 
cockles  of  his  heart  warmed  to  see  the  orchestra  in  its  glory  of 
old — thirteen  black  Orpheuses  perched  on  a  throne  of  dining- 
tables,  and  the  black  veins  on  their  shining  temples  strained  to 
the  crack  of  mortality  with  their  zealous  execution.  The  waiters, 
meantime,  were  lighting  the  tin  Briareus  (that  spermaceti  monster 
so  destructive  to  broadcloth),  and  the  side-sconces  and  stand- 
lamps,  and  presently  a  blaze  of  light  flooded  the  dusty  evergreens 
of  the  facade,  and  nothing  was  wanting  but  some-  fashionable 
Curtius  to  plunge  first  into  the  void — some  adventurous  Bi'nton, 
u  to  set  the  ball  in  motion." 

Wrapped  carefully  from  the  night-air  in  his  cloak  and  belcher, 

B sat  looking  earnestly  into  the  room,  and   to  his  excited 

senses  there  seemed,  about  all  this  supplement  to  the  summer's 
gayety,  a  weird  mysteriousness,  an  atmosphere  of  magic,  which 
was  observable,  he  thought,  even  in  the  burning  of  the  candles ! 
And  as  to  Johnson,  the  sable  leader  of  the  band — "  God's-my- 
life,"  as  Bottom  says,  how  like  a  tormented  fiend  writhed  the 
cremona  betwixt  his  chin  and  white  waistcoat !  Such  music, 
from  instruments  so  vexed,  had  never  split  the  ears  of  the 
Saratoga  groundlings  since  the  rule  of  St.  Dominick  (in  whose 
hands  even  wine  sparkled  to  song) — no,  not  since  the  goldao  age 
of  the  Springs,  when  that  lord  of  harmony  and  the  nabobs  of 
lower  Broadvwy  inajde,  of  Congress  Hall,  a  paradise  for  the 
unmarried  !  Was  Johnson  bewitched  ?  Was  Congress  Hall 

repossessed    by  the  spirits  of  the   past  ?     If  ever  Mr.  B , 

sitting  in  other  years  on  that  resounding  colonnade,  had  felt  the 
magnetic  atmosphere  of  people  he  knew  to  be  up  stairs,  he  felt  it 
now !  If  ever  he  had  been  contented,  knowing  that  certain 
bright  creatures  would  presently  glide  into  the  visual  radius  of 


THE  GHOST-BALL  AT  CONGRESS  HALL.  77 


black  Johnson,  he  felt  contented,  inexplicably,  from  the  same 
cause  now — expecting,  as  if  such  music  could  only  be  their  herald, 
the  entrance  of  the  same  bright  creatures,  no  older,  and  as  bright 

after  years  of  matrimony.     And  now  and  then  B pressed  his 

hand  to  his  head — for  he  was  not  quite  sure  that  he  might  not 
be  a  little  wandering  in  his  mind. 

But  suddenly  the  band  struck  up  a  march  !     The  first  bar  was 

played  through,  and  B looked  at  the  door,  sighing  that  this 

sweet  hallucination — this  waking  dream  of  other  days  — was  now 
to  be  scattered  by  reality.  He  could  have  filliped  that  mer 
cenary  Ethiopian  on  the  nose  for  playing  such  music  to  such 
falling  off  from  the  past  as  he  now  looked  to  see  enter. 

A  lady  crossed  the  threshold  on  a  gentleman's  arm. 

"  Ha  !  ha !"  said  B ,  trying  with  a  wild  effort  to  laugh,  and 

pinching  his  arm  into  a  blood  blister,  "  come — this  is  too  good ! 

Helen  K !  oh,  no  !     Not  quite  crazy  yet,  I  hope — not  so  far 

gone  yet  !  Yet  it  is  !  I  swear  it  is  !  And  not  changed,  either  ! 
Beautiful  as  ever,  by  all  that  is  wonderful !  Psha  !  I'll  not  be 
mad  !  Rice  ! — Are  you  there  ?  "Why  who  are  these  coming 

after  her  ?     Julia  L !     Anna  K ,  and  my  friend  Fanny  ! 

The  D s  !     The  M s  !     Nay,  I'm    dreaming,   silly  fool 

that  I  am  !  I'll  call  for  a  light  !  Waiter  !  !  Where  the  devil's 
the  bell  r" 

And  as  poor  B insisting  on  finding  himself  in  bed,  reached 

out  his  hand  to  find  the  bell-pull,  one  of  the  waiters  of  Congress 
Hall  came  to  his  summons.     The  gentleman  wanted  nothing,  and, 
the  waiter  thought  he  had  cried  out  in  his  nap  ;  and  rather  em 
barrassed  to  explain  his  wants,  but  still  unconvinced  of  his  freedom 
from  dream-land,  B drew  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and  his  cloak 


73 


FUN  JOTTINGS. 


around  him,  and  screwed  up  his  courage  to  look  again  into  the 
enchanted  ball-room. 

The  quadrilles  were  formed,  and  the  lady  at  the  head  of  the 
first  set  was  spreading  her  skirts  for  the  first  avant-denx.  Sho 
was  a  tall  woman,  superbly  handsome,  and  moved  with  the  grace 
of  a  frigate  at  sea  with  a  nine-knot  breeze.  Eyes  capable  of  tak 
ing  in  lodgers  (hearts,  that  is  to  say)  of  any  and  every  calibre  a'nd 
quality,  a  bust  for  a  Cornelia,  a  shape  all  love  and  lightness,  and 
a  smile  like  a  temptation  of  Eblis — there  she  was — and  thoro 
were  fifty  like  her — not  like  her,  exactly,  either,  but  of  her  con 
stellation — belles,  every  one  of  them,  who  will  be  remembered  by 
old  men,  and  used  for  the  disparagement  of  degenerated  young 
lings — splendid  women  of  Mr.  B— — 's  time,  and  of  the  palmy 
time  of  Congress  Hall 

"  The  past— the  past— the  past !" 

Out  on  your  staring  and  unsheltered  lantern  of  brick — Your 
"  United  States  Hotel,"  stiff,  naodprn,  and  promiscuous  !  Who 
ever  passed  a  comfortable  hour  in  its  glaring  cross-lights,  or 
breathed  a  gentle  sentiment  in  its  unsubdued  air  and  townish 
opcn-to-dustiness  !  What  is  it  to  the  leafy  dimness,  the  cool 
shadows,  the  perpetual  and  pensive  demi-jour — what  to  the  ten 
thousand  associations — of  Congress  Hall !  Who  has  not  lost  a 
heart  (or  two)^on  the  boards  "of  that  primitive  wilderness  of  a 
colonnade  !  Whose  first  adorations,  whose  sighs,  hopes,  stratc- 
.gies,  and  flirtations,  are  not  ground  into  that  warped  and  slipper- 
polished  floor,  like  heartache  and  avarice  into  the  bricks  of  Wall 
street !  Lord  bless  you,  madam  !  don't  desert  old  Congress  Hull ! 
We  have  done  going  to  the  Springs — (we) — and  wouldn't  go 
there  again  for  anything,  but  a  good  price  for  a  pang — (that  is, 


THE  GHOST-BALL  AT  CONGRESS  HALL.       f  9 


except  to  see  such  a  sight  as  we  are  describing) — but  we  can  not 
bear,  in  our  midsummer  flit  through  the  Astor,  to  see  charming 
girls  bound  for  Saratoga,  and  hear  no  talk  of  Congress  Hall ! 
What !  no  lounge  on  those  proposal  sofas — no  pluck  at  the  bright 
green  leaves  of  those  luxuriant  creepers  while  listening  to  "  the 
voice  of  the  charmer" — no  dawdle  on  the  steps  to  the  spring 
(mamma  gone  on  before) — no  hunting  for  that  glow-worm  in  the 
shrubbery  by  the  music-room — no  swing — no  billiards — no  morn 
ing  gossips  with  the  few  privileged  beaux  admitted  to  the  up 
stairs  entry,  ladies'  wing  ?  • 

"  I'd  sooner  be  set  quick  i'  the  earth, 
And  bowled  to  death  with  turnips," 

than  assist  or  mingle  in  such  ungrateful  forge tfulness  of  pleasure- 
land  !  But  what  do  we  with  a  digression  in  a  ghost-story  ? 

The  ball  went  on.  Champagne  of  the  "exploded"  color  (pink) 
was  freely  circulated  between  the  dances — (rosy  wine  suited  to 
the  bright  days  when  all  things  were  tinted  .rose) — and  wit,  ex 
ploded,  too,  in  these  leaden  times,  went  round  with  the  wine  ;  and 
as  a  glass  of  the  bright  vintage  was  handed  up  to  old  Johnson, 
B stretched  his  neck  over  the  window-sill  in  an  agony  of  ex 
pectation,  confident  that  the  black  ghost,  if  ghost  he  were,  would 
fail  to  recognize  the  leaders  of  fashion,  as  he  was  wont  of  old,  and 
to  bow  respectfully  to  them  before  drinking  in  their  presence. 
Oh,  murder !  not  he  !  Down  went  his  black  poll  to  the  music- 
stand,  and  up,  and  down  again,  and  at  every  dip,  the  white  roller 
of  that  unctuous  eye  was  brought  to  bear  upon  some  well-remem 
bered  star  of  the  ascendant  !  lie  saw  them  as  B did  !  He 

was  not  playing  to  an  unrecognized  company  of  late-comers  to 


§0  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

Saratoga — anybodies  from  any  place  !  lie,  the  unimaginative 
African,  believed  evidently  that  they  were  there  in  flesh — Rolen, 
the  glorious,  and  all  her  fair  troop  of  contemporaries  ! — and  that 
with  them  had  come  back  their  old  lovers,  the  gay  and  gallant 
Lotharios  of  the  time  of  Johnson's  first  blushing  honors  of 
renown  !  The  big  drops  of  agonized  horror  and  incredulity  rolled 
off  the  forehead  of  Mr.  B ! 

But  suddenly  the  waiters  radiated  to  the  side-doors,  and  with 
the  celestial  felicity  of  star-rising  and  morning-breaking,  a  waltz 
was  found  playing  in  the  ears  of  the  revellers  !  Perfect,  yet  when, 
it  did  begin  !  Waltzed  every  brain  and  vein,  waltzed  every  swim 
ming  eye  within  the  reach  of  its  magic  vibrations  !  Gently  away 
floated  couple  after  couple,  and  as  they  circled  round  to  his  point  of 

observation,  B could  have  called  every  waltzer  by  name — 

but  his  heart  was  in  his  throat,  but  his  eyeballs  were  hot  with 
th."1  .-tony  immovableness  of  his  long  gazing. 

Another  change  in  the  music  !  Spirits  of  bedevilment !  could 
not  that  waltz  have  been  spared !  Boniface  stood  waltzing  his 
head  from  shoulder  to  shoulder — Rice  twirled  the  head  chamber 
maid  in  the  entry — the  black  and  white  boys  spun  round  on  the 
colonnade — the  wall -flowers  in  the  ball-room  crowded  their  chairs 
to  the  wall — the  candles  flared  embracingly — ghosts  or  no  ghosts, 
dream  or  hallucination,  B could  endure  no  more  !  He  flun°- 

'  O 

off  his  cloak  and  hat,  and  jumped  in  at  the  window.     The  divine 

Emily  C had  that  moment  risen  from  tying  her  shoe.     With 

a  nod  to  her  partner,  and  a  smile  to  herself,  B encircled  hor 

round  waist,  and  away  he  flew  like  Ariel,  light  on  the  toe,  but  his 
face  pallid  and  wild,  and  his  emaciated  1  -gs  playing  like  sticks  in 
his  unfilled  trousers.  Twice  he  made  the  circuit  of  the  room, 
exciting  apparently  less  surprise  than  pleasure  by  his  sudden  ap- 


THE  GHOST-BALL  AT  CONGRESS  HALL.       81 


pearancc ;  then,  with  a  wavering  halt,  and  his  hand  laid  tremu 
lously  to  his  forehead,  he  flew  at  the  hall-door  at  a  tangent,  and 
rushing  through  servants  and  spectators,  dashed  across  the  por 
tico,  and  disappeared  in  the  darkness  !  A  fortnight's  brain-fever 
deprived  him  of  the  opportunity  of  repeating  this  remarkable 
flourish,  and  his  subsequent  sanity  was  established  through  some 
critical  hazard. 

There  was  some  inquiry  at  supper  about  "  old  B — — ,"  but 
the  lady  who  waltzed  with  him  knew  as  little  of  his  coming  and 
going  as  the  managers  ;  and,  by  one  belle,  who  had  been  at  some 
trouble  in  other  days  to  quench  his  ardor,  it  was  solemnly  believed 
to  be  his  persevering  apparition. 

The  next  day  there  was  a  drive  and  dinner  at  Barheight's,  and 
back  in  time  for  ball  and  supper ;  and  the  day  after  there  was  a 
most  hilarious  and  memorable  fishing-party  to  Saratoga  lake,  and 
all  back  again  in  high  force  for  the  ball  and  supper  ;  and  so  like 
a  long  gala-day,  like  a  short  summer  carnival,  all  frolic,  sped  the 
week  away.  Boniface,  by  the  third  day,  had  rallied  his  recollec 
tions,  and  with  many  a  scrape  and  compliment,  he  renewed  his 
acquaintance  with  the  belles  and  beaux  of  a  brighter  period  of 
beauty  and  gallantry.  And  if  there  was  any  mystery  remaining 
in  the  old  functionary's  mind  as  to  the  identity  and  miracle  of 
their  presence  and  reunion,  it  was  on  the  one  point  of  the  ladies' 
unfaded  loveliness — for,  saving  a  half  inch  aggregation  in  the 
waist,  which  was  rather  an  improvement  than  otherwise,  and  a 
little  more  fulness  in  the  bust,  which  was  a  most  embellishing  dif 
ference,  the  ten  years  that  had  gone  over  them  had  made  no  mark 
on  the  lady  portion  of  his  guests  ;  and  as  to  the  gentlemen — but 
that  is  neither  here  nor  there.  They  were  "  men  of  mark," 
4* 


82  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

young  or  old,  and  their  wear  and  tear  is,  as  Flute  says,  "  a  thing 
of  naught." 

It  was  revealed  by  the  keeper  of  the  Pavilion,  after  the  depart 
ure  of  the  late-come  revellers  of  Congress  Hall,  that  there  had 
been  constant  and  secret  visitations  by  the  belles  of  the  latter  so 
journ,  to  the  numerous  infantine  lodgers  of  the  former.  Such  a 
troop  of  babies  and  boys,  and  all  so  lovely,  had  seldom  gladdened 
even  the  eyes  of  angels,  out  of  the  cherubic  choir  (let  alone  the 
Saratoga  Pavilion),  and  though,  in  their  white  dresses  and  rose 
buds,  the  belles  afore  spoken  of  looked  like  beautiful  elder  sisters 
to  those  motherless  younglings,  yet  when  they  came  •  in,  mothers 
confessed,  on  the  morning  of  departure,  openly  to  superintend 
the  preparations  for  travel,  they  had  so  put  off  the  untroubled 
maiden  look  from  their  countenances,  and  so  put  on  the  inde 
scribable  growing-old-incss  of  married  life  in  their  dress,  that,  to 
the  eye  of  an  observer,  they  might  well  have  passed  for  the  moth 
ers- of  the  girls  they  had  themselves  seerued  to  be,  the  day  before, 
only. 

"Who  devised,  planned,  and  brought  about,  this  practical  com 
ment  on  the  ncedlessntss  of  tJte  American  haste  to  be  old,  we  are 
not  at  liberty  to  mention.  The  reader  will  have  surmised,  how- 
<jver,  that  it  was  some  one  who  had  observed  the  more  enduring 
quality  of  beauty  in  other  lands,  and  on  returning  to  his  own, 
looked  in  vain  for  those  who,  by  every  law  of  nature,  should  be 
still  embellishing  the  society  of  which  he  had  left  them  the  bud 
ding  flower  and  ornament.  To  get  them  together  again,  only 
with  their  contemporaries,  in  one  of  their  familiar  haunts  of  pleas 
ure — to  suggest  the  exclusion  of  everything  but  youthfulness  in 
dress,  amusement,  and  occupation — to  bring  to  meet  them  their 
old  admirers,  married  like  themselves,  but  entering  the  field  once 


THE  GHOST-BALL  AT  CONGRESS  HALL.  83 


more  for  their  smiles  against  their  rejuvenescent  husbands — to 
array  them  as  belles  again,  and  see  whether  it  was  any  falling  off 
in  beauty  or  the  power  of  pleasing  which  had  driven  them  from 
their  prominent  places  in  social  life — this  was  the  obvious  best 
way  of  doing  his  immediate  circle  of  friends  the  service  his  feel 
ings  exacted  of  him  ;  the  only  way,  indeed,  of  convincing  these 
bright  creatures  that  they  had  far  anticipated  the  fading  hour  of 
bloom  and  youthfulness.  Pensez-y  ! 


PASQUALI,  THE  TAILOR  OF  VENICE, 
CHAPTER  I. 

GXANNINO  PASQUALI  was  a  smart  tailor  some  five  years  ago, 
occupying  a  cool  shop  on  one  of  the  smaller  canals  of  Venice. 
Four  pairs  of  suspenders,  a  print  of  the  fashions,  and  a  motley  row 
of  the  gay-colored  trousers  worn  by  the  gondoliers,  ornamented 
the  window  looking  on  the  dark  alley  in  the  rear,  and,  attached  to 
the  post  of  the  water-gate  on  the  canal  side,  floated  a  small  black 
gondola,  the  possession  of  which  afforded  the  same  proof  of 
prosperity  of  the  Venetian  tailor  which  is  expressed  by  a  horsjc 
and  buggy  at  the  door  of  a  snip  in  London.  The-  place-seeking 
traveller,  who,  nez  en  Pair,  threaded  the  tangled  labyrinth  of 
alleys  and  bridges  between  the  Rialto  and  St.  Mark's,  would 
scarce  have  observed  the  humble  shop-window  of  Pasquali,  yet 
he  had  a  consequence  on  the  Piazza,  and  the  lagoon  had  seen 
his  triumphs  as  an  amateur  gondolier.  Griannino  was  some  thirty 
years  of  age,  and  his  wife  Fiametta,  whom  he  had  married  for 
her  zecchini,  was  on  the  shady  side  of  fifty. 

If  the  truth  must  be  told,  Pasquali  had  discovered  that,  even 
with  a  bag  of  sequins  for  eye-water,  Fiametta  was  not  always  the 
most  lovely  woman  in  Venice.  Just  across  the  canal  lived  old 


PASQUALI,  THE    TAILOR   OF   VENICE.  £5 

Donna  Bcntqccata,  the  nurse,  whose  daughter  Turturilla  was  like 
the  blonde  in  Titian's  picture  of  the  Marys  ;  and  to  the  charms  of 
Turturilla,  even  seen  through  the  leaden  light  of  poverty,  tho  un 
happy  Pasquali  was  far  from  insensible. 

The  festa  of  San  Antonio  arrived  after  a  damp  week  of  No 
vember,  and  though  you  would  suppose  the  atmosphere  of  Venice 
not  liable  to  any  very  sensible  increase  of  moisture,  Fiametta,  like 
people  who  live  on  land,  and  have  the  rheumatism  as  a  punishment 
for  their  age  and  ugliness,  was  usually  confined  to  her  brazero  of 
hot  coals  till  it  was  dry  enough  on  the  Lido  for  the  peacocks  to 
walk  abroad.  On  this  festa,  however,  San  Antonio  being,  as  eve 
ry  one  knows,  the  patron  saint  of  Padua,  the  Padovese  were  to 
come  down  the  Brenta,  as  was  their  custom,  and  cross  over  the 
sea  to  Venice  to  assist  in  the  celebration  ;  and  Fiametta  once  more 
thought  Pasquali  loved  her  for  herself  alone  when  he  swore  by  his 
rosary  that  unless  she  accompanied  him  to  the  festa  in  her  wed 
ding  dress,  he  would  not  turn  an  oar  in  the  race,  nor  unfasten  his 
gondola  from  the  door-post.  Alas  !  Fiametta  was  married  in  the 
summer  solstice,  and  her  dress  was  permeable  to  the  wind  as  a 
cobweb,  or  gossamer.  Is  it  possible  you  could  have  remembered 
that,  0  wicked  Pasquali  ? 

It  was  a  day  to  puzzle  a  barometer ;  now  bright,  now  rainy, 
now  gusty  as  a  corridor  in  a  novel,  and  now  calm  as  a  lady  after 
a  fit  of  tears.  Pasquali  was  up  early  and  waked  Fiametta  with 
a  kiss,  and,  by  way  of  unusual  tenderness,  or  by  way  of  ensuring 
the  wedding  dress,  he  chose  to  play  dressing  maid,  and  arranged 
with  his  own  hands  her  jupon  andfazzoletta.  She  emerged  from 
her  chamber  looking  like  a  slice  of  orange-peel  in  a  flower-bed, 
but  smiling  and  nodding,  and  vowing  the  day  warm  as  April,  and 
the  sky  without  a  cloud.  The  widening  circles  of  an  occasional 


86  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

drop  of  rain  in  the  canal  were  nothing  but  the  bubbles  bursting 
after  a  passing  oar,  or  perhaps  the  last  flies  of  summer.  Pas 
quali  swore  it  was  weather  to  win  down  a  peri. 

As  Fianietta  stepped  into  the  gondola,  she  glanced  her  eyes  over 
the  way  and  saw  Turturilla,  with  a  face  as  sorrowful  as  the  first 
day  in  Lent,  seated  at  her  window.  Her  lap  was  full  of  work, 
and  it  was  quite  evident  that  she  had  not  thought  of  being  at  the 
festa.  Fiametta's  heart  was  already  warm,  and  it  melted  quite  at 
the  sight  of  the  poor  girl's  loneliness. 

"  Pasquali  mio  !"  she  said,  in  a  deprecating  tone,  as  if  she  were 
uncertain  how  the  proposition  would  be  received,  "  I  think  we 
could  make  room  for  poor  Turturilla  !'' 

A  gleam  of  pleasure,  unobserved  by  the  confiding  sposa,  tinted 
faintly  the  smooth  olive  cheek  of  Pasquali. 

"Eh  !  diavolo  /"  he  replied,  so  loud  that  the  sorrowful  seam 
stress  heard,  and  hung  down  her  head  still  lower  ;  "must  you  take 
pity  on  every  cheese-paring  of  a  ragezza  who  happens  to  have  no 
lover !  Have  reason  !  have  reason  !  The  gondola  is  narrower 
than  your  brave  heart,  my  fine  Fiametta !"  And  away  he  pushed 
from  the  water-steps. 

Turturilla  rose  from  her  work  and  stepped  out  upon  the  rusty 
gratings  of  the  balcony  to  see  them  depart.  Pasquali  stopped  to 
grease  the  notch  of  his  oar,  and  between  that  and  some  other  em 
barrassments,  the  gondola  was  suffered  to  float  directly  under  her 
window.  The  compliment  to  the  generous  nature  of  Fiametta, 
was,  meantime,  working,  and  as  she  was  compelled  to  exchange  a 
word  or  two  with  Turturilla  while  her  husband  was  getting  las  oar 
into  the  socket,  it  resulted  (as  he  thought  it  very  probable  it 
would),  in  the  good  wife's  renewing  her  proposition,  and  making  a 
point  of  sending  the  deserted  girl  for  her  holiday  bonnet.  Pas- 


PASQUALI,  THE  TAILOR  OF  VENICE. 


quali  swore  through  all  the  saints  and  angels  by  the  time  she  had 
made  herself  ready,  though  she  was  but  five  minutes  gone  from 
the  window,  and  telling  Fiametta  in  her  ear  that  she  must  consid 
er  it  as  the  purest  obligation,  he  backed  up  to  the  steps  of  old 
Donna  Bentoccata,  helped  in  her  daughter  with  a  better  grace 
than  could  have  been  expected,  and  with  one  or  two  short  and 
deep  strokes,  put  forth  into  the  grand  canal  with  the  velocity  of  a 
lance-fly. 

A  gleam  of  sunshine  lay  along  the  bosom  of  the  broad  silver 
sheet,  and  it  was  beautiful  to  see  the  gondolas  with  their  gay  color 
ed  freights  all  hastening  in  one  direction,  and  with  a  swift  track 
to  the  festa.  Far  up  and  down  they  rippled  the  smooth  water, 
here  gliding  out  from  below  a  palace-arch,  there  from  a  narrow 
and  unseen  canal,  the  steel  beaks  curved  and  flashing,  the  water 
glancing  on  the  oar-blades,  the  curtains  moving,,  and  the  fair  wo 
men  of  Venice  leaning  out  and  touching  hands  as  they  neared 
neighbor  or  acquaintance  in  the  close-pressing  gondolas.  It  was 
a  beautiful  sight,  indeed,  and  three  of  the  happiest  hearts  in  that 
swift  gliding  company  were  in  Pasquali's  gondola,  though  the  bliss 
of  Fiametta,  I  am  compelled  to  say,  was  entirely  owing  to  the 
bandage  with  which  love  is  so  significantly  painted.  Ah  !  poor 
Fiametta  ! 

From  the  Lido,  from  Fusina,  from  under  the  Bridge  of  Sighs, 
from  all  quarters  of  the  lagoon,  and  from  all  points  of  the  floating 
city  of  Venice,  streamed  the  flying  gondolas  to  the  Giudecca. 
The  narrow  walk  along  the  edge  of  the  long  and  close-built  island 
was  thronged  with  booths  and  promenaders,  and  the  black  barks 
by  hundreds  bumped  their  steel  noses  against  the  pier  as  the  agi 
tated  water  rose  and  fell  beneath  them.  The  gondolas  intended 
for  the  race  pulled  slowly  up  and  down,  close  to  the  shore,  cxhi- 


gg  FUN   JOTTINGS. 


biting  their  fairy-like  forms  and  their  sinewy  and  gayly  dressed 
gondoliers  to  the  crowds  on  land  and  water  ;  the  bands  of  music, 
attached  to  different  parties,  played  here  and  there  a  strain ;  the 
criers  of  holy  pictures  and  gingerbread  made  the  air  vocal  with 
their  lisping  and  soft  Venetian ;  and  all  over  the  scene,  as  if  it 
was  the  light  of  the  sky  or  some  other  light  as  blessed  but  less  com 
mon,  shone  glowing  black  eyes,  black  as  night,  and  sparkling  as 
the  stars  on  night's  darkest  bosom.  He  who  thinks  lightly  of 
Italian  beauty  should  have  seen  the  women  of  Venice  on  St.  An 
tonio's  day  *32,  or  on  any  or  at  any  hour  when  their  pulses  are 
beating  high  and  their  eyes  alight — for  they  are  neither  one  nor 
the  other  always.  The  women  of  that  fair  clime,  to  borrow  the 
simile  of  Moore,  are  like  lava -streams,  only  bright  when  the  vol 
cano  kindles.  Their  long  lashes  cover  lustreless  eyes,  and  their 
blood  shows  dully  through  the  cheek  in  common  and  listless  hours. 
The  calm,  the  passive  tranquillity  in  which  the  delicate  graces  of 
colder  climes  find  their  element  are  to  them  a  torpor  of  the  heart 
when  the  blood  scarce  seems  to  flow.  They  are  wakeful  only  to 
the  energetic,  the  passionate,  the  joyous  movements  of  the  soul. 
Pasquali  stood  erect  in  the  prow  of  his  gondola,  and  stole  fur 
tive  glances  at  Turturilla  while  he  pointed  away  with  his  finger 
to  call  off  the  sharp  eyes  of  Fiametta  ;  but  Fiametta  was  happy 
and  unsuspicious.  Only  when  now  and  then  the  wind  came  up 
chilly  from  the  Adriatic,  the  poor  wife  shivered  and  sat  closer  to 
Turturilla,  who  in  her  plainer  but  thicker  dress,  to  say  nothing 
of  younger  blood,  sat  more  comfortably  on  the  black  cushion  and 
thought  less  about  the  weather.  An  occasional  drop  of  rain  fell 
on  the  nose  of  poor  Fiametta,  but  if  she  did  not  believe  it  was 
the  spray  from  Pasqnali's  oar,  she  at  least  did  her  best  to  believe 
so ;  and  the  perfidious  tailor  swore  by  St  Anthony  that  the  clouds 


PASQUALI,  THE  TAILOR  OF  VENICE.  g9 


were  as  dry  as  her  eyelashes.  I  never  was  very  certain  that  Tur- 
turilla  was  not  in  the  secret  of  this  day's  treacheries. 

The  broad  centre  of  the  Giudecca  was  cleared,  and  the  boats 
took  their  places  for  the  race.  Pasquali  ranged  his  gondola  with 
those  of  the  other  spectators,  and  telling  Fiametta  in  her  ear  that 
he  should  sit  on  the  other  side  of  Turturilla  as  a  punishment  for 
their  malapropos  invitation,  he  placed  himself  on  the  small  re 
mainder  of  the  deep  cushion  on  the  farthest  side  from  his  now 
penitent  spouse,  and  while  he  complained  almost  rudely  of  the 
narrowness  of  his  seat,  he  made  free  to  hold  on  by  Tnrturilla*s 
waist,  which  no  doubt  made  the  poor  girl's  mind  more  easy  on  the 
subject  of  her  intrusion. 

Who  won  and  who  lost  the  race,  what  was  the  device  of  each 
flag,  and  what  bets  and  bright  eyes  changed  owners  by  the  result, 
no  personage  of  this  tale  knew  or  cared,  save  Fiametta.  She 
looked  on  eagerly.  Pasquali  .and  Turturilla,  as  the  French  say, 
trouvaienk  autress  chats  d  f rotter. 

After  the  decision  of  the  grand  race,  St.  Antonio  being  the 
protector,  more  particularly  of  the  humble  ("  patron  of  pigs  "  in 
the  saints'  calendar),  the  seignoria  and  the  grand  people  gener 
ally,  pulled  away  for  St.  Mark's,  leaving  the  crowded  Giudecca 
to  the  people.  Pasquali,  as  was  said  before,  had  some  renown  as 
a  gondolier.  Something  what  would  be  called  in  other  countries 
a  scrub  race,  followed  the  departure  of  the  winning  boat,  and  sev 
eral  gondolas,  holding  each  one  person  only,  took  their  places  for 
the  start.  The  tailor  laid  his  hand  on  his  bosom,  and,  with  the 
smile  that  had  first  stirred  the  heart  and  the  sequins  of  Fiametta, 
begged  her  to  gratify  his  love  by  acting  as  his  make-weight  while 
he  turned  an  oar  for  the  pig  of  St.  Antonio.  The  prize  roasted 
to  an  appetizing  crisp,  stood  high  on  a  platter  in  front  of  one  of 


90  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


the  booths  on  shore,  and  Fiauietta  smacked  her  lips,  overcame 
her  tears  with  an  effort,  and  told  him,  in  accents  as  little  as  pos 
sible  like  the  creak  of  a  dry  oar  in  the  socket,  that  he  might  set 
Turturilla  on  shore. 

A  word  in  her  ear,  as  he  handed  her  over  the  gunwale,  recon 
ciled  Bonna  Bentoccata's  fair  daughter  to  this  conjugal  partiality, 
and  stripping  his  manly  figure  of  its  upper  disguises,  Pasquali 
straightened  out  his  fine  limbs,  and  drove  his  bark  to  the  line  in  a 
style  that  drew  applause  from  even  his  competitors.  As  a  mark 
of  their  approbation,  they  offered  him  an  outside  place  where  his 
fair  dame  would  be  less  likely  to  be  spattered  with  the  contend 
ing  oars  ;  but  he  was  too  generous  to  take  advantage  of  this  con 
siderate  offer,  and  crying  out  as  he  took  the  middle,  "  ben  pronto, 
signori !"  gave  Fiametta  a  confident  look  and  stood  like  a  hound 
in  the  leash. 

Off  they  went  at  the  tap  of  the  drum,  poor  Fiametta  holding 
her  breath  and  clinging  to  the  sides  of  the  gondola,  and  Pasquali 
developing  skill  and  muscle — not  for  Fiamctta's  eyes  only.  It 
was  a  short,  sharp  race,  without  jockeying  or  management,  all  fair 
play  and  main  strength,  and  the  tailor  shot  past  the  end  of  the 
Giudecca  a  boat's  length  ahead.  Much  more  applauded  than  a 
king  at  a  coronation  or  A  lord-mayor  taking  water  at  London 
fctairs,  he  slowly  made  his  way  back  to  Turturilla,  and  it  was 
only  when  that  demure  damsel  rather  shrunk  from  sitting  down 
in  two  inches  of  water,  that  he  discovered  how  the  disturbed 
element  had  quite  filled  up  the  hollow  of  the  leather  cushion  and 
made  a  peninsula  of  the  uncomplaining  Fiametta.  She  was  as 
well  watered,  as  a  favorite  plant  in  a  flower-garden. 

"  Fasquali  mio  /"  she  said  in  an  imploring  tone,  holding  up 


PASQUALI,  THE  TAILOR  OF  VENICE.  91 


the  skirt  of  her  dress  with  the  tips  of  her  thumb  and  finger, 
"  could  you  just  take  me  home  while  I  change  my.  dress  ?" 
"  One  moment,  Fiametta  cara  !  they  are  bringing  the  pig  !" 
The  crisp  and  succulent  trophy  was  solemnly  placed  in  the 
prow  of  the  victor's  gondola,  and  preparation  was  made  to  con 
voy  him  home  with  a  triumphant  procession.  A  half  hour  before 
it  was  in  order  to  move — an  hour  in  first  making  the  circuit  of 
the  grand  canal,  and  an  hour  more  in  drinking  a  glass  and 
exchanging  good  wishes  at  the  stairs  of  the  Rialto,  and  Donua 
Fiametta  had  sat  too  long  by  two  hours  and  a  half  with  scarce  a 
dry  thread  on  her  body.  What  afterwards  befell  will  be  seen  in 
the.  more  melancholy  sequel. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

THE  hospital  of  St.  Girolamo  is  attached  to  the  convent  of 
that  name,  standing  on  one  of  the  canals  which  put  forth  on  the 
seaward  side  of  Venice.  It  is  a  long  building,  with  its  low  windows 
and  latticed  doors  opening  almost  on  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  the 
wards  for  the  sick  are  large  and  well  aired ;  but,  except  when  the 
breeze  is  stirring,  impregnated  with  a  saline  dampness  from  the 
canal,  which,  as  Pasquali  remarked,  was  good  for  the  rheumatism. 
It  was  not  so  good  for  the  patient. 

The  loving  wife  Fiametta  grew  worse  and  worse  after  the  fatal 
festa,  and  the  fit  of  rheumatism  brought  on  by  the  slightncss  of 
her  dress  and  the  spattering  he  had  given  her  in  the  race,  had 
increased  by  the  end  of  the  week,  to  a  rheumatic  fever.  Fia 
metta  was  old  and  tough,  however,  and  struggled  manfully 


0,2  FT'N    JOTTINGS. 


(woman  as  she  was)  with  the  disease,  but  being  one  night  a  little 
out  of  her  head,  her  loving  husband  took  occasion  to  shudder  at 
the  responsibility  of  taking  care  of  her,  and  jumping  into  liis 
gondola,  he  pulled  across  to  St.  Girolamo  and  bespoke  a  dry  bod 
and  a  sister  of  charity,  and  brought  back  the  pious  father  Gas- 
paro  and  a  comfortable  litter.  Fiametta  was  dozing  when  they 
arrived,  and  the  kind-hearted  tailor  willing  to  spare  her  the  pain 
of  knowing  that  she  was  on  her  way  to  the  hospital  for  the  poor, 
set  out  some  meat  and  wine  for  the  monk,  and  sending  over  for 
Turturilla  and  the  nurse  to  mix  the  salad,  they  sat  and  ate  a\v:iy 
the  hours  till  the  poor  dame's  brain  should  be  wandering  again. 

Toward  night  the  monk  and  Dame  Bentoccata  were  comforta 
bly  dozing  with  each  other's  support  (having  fallen  asleep  at 
table),  and  Pasquali  with  a  kiss  from  Turturilla,  stole  softly  up 
Bt:iirs.  Fiametta  was  muttering  unquietly,  and  working  her 
fingers  in  tho  palms  of  her  hands,  and  on  feeling  her  pulse  he 
found  the  fever  was  at  its  height.  She  took  him,  besides,  for  the 
prize  pig  of  the  festa,  for  he  knew  her  wits  were  fairly  abroad. 
He  crept  down  stairs,  gave  the  monk  a  "strong  cup  of  coffee  to 
get  him  well  awake,  and  between  the  four  of  them,  they  got  poor 
Fiametta  into  the  litter,  drew  the  curtains  tenderly  around  and 
deposited  her  safely  in  the  bottom  of  the  gondola. 

Lightly  and  smoothly  the  winner  of  the  pig  pulled  away  with 
his  loving  burden,  and  gliding  around  the  slimy  corners  of  the 
palaces,  and  hushing  his  voice  as  he  cried  out  "  right  !"  or 
u  left !"  to  guard  the  doming  gondoliers  of  his  vicinity,  he 
arrived,  like  a  thought  of  love  to  a  maid's  mind  in  sleep,  at  tlie 
door  of  St.  Girolamo.  The  abbess  looked  out  and  said,  "  Jjcne- 
dicite  .pl>  and  the  monk  stood  firm  on  his  brown  sandals  to  "receive 
the  precious  burden  from  the  arms  of  Pasquali.  Believing  firmly 


PASQUALI,  THE  TAILOR  OF  VENICE.  93 


that  it  was  equivalent  to  committing  her  to  the  hand  of  St. 
Peter,  and  of-  course  abandoning  all  hope  of  seeing  her  again  in 
this  world,  the  soft-hearted  tailor  wiped  his  eye  as  she  was  lifted 
in,  and  receiving  a  promise  from  Father  Gasparo  that  he  would 
communicate  faithfully  the  state  of  her  soul  in  the  last  agony,  he 
pulled,  with  lightened  gondola  and  heart  back  to  his  widower's 
home  and  Turturilla. 

For  many  good  reasons,  and  apparent  as  good,  it  is  a  rule  in 
the  hospital  of  St.  Girolamo,  that  the  sick  under  its  holy  charge 
shall  receive  the  visit  of  neither  friend  nor  relative.  If  they 
recover,  they  return  to  their  abodes  to  earn  candles  for  the  altar 
of  the  restoring  saint.  If  they  die,  their  clothes  are  sent  to  their 
surviving  friends,  and  this  affecting  memorial,  besides  communi 
cating  the  melancholy  news,  affords  all  the  particulars  and  all  the 
consolation  they  are  supposed  to  require  upon  the  subject  of  their 
loss. 

Waiting  patiently  for  Father  Gasparo  and  his  bundle,  Pasquali 
and  Turturilla  gave  themselves  up  to  hopes,  which  on  the  tailor's 
part  (we  fear  it  must  be  admitted),  augured  a  quicker  recovery 
from  grief  than  might  be  credited  to  an  elastic  constitution. 
The  fortune  of  poor  Fiamctta  was  sufficient  to  warrant  Pasquali 
in  neglecting  his  shop  to  celebrate  every  festa  that  the  church 
acknowledged,  and  for  ten  days  subsequent  to  the  committal  of 
his  wife  to  the  tender  mercies  of  St.  Girolamo,  five  days  out  of 
seven  was  the  proportion  of  merry  holydays  with  his  new 
betrothed. 

They  were  sitting  one  evening  in  the  open  piazza  of  St.  Mark, 
in  front  of  the  most  thronged  cafe,  of  that  matchless  square. 
The  moon  was  resting  her  silver  disk  on  the  point  of  the  Campa 
nile,  and  the  shadows  of  thousands  of  gay  Venetians  fell  on  the 


94  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


immense  pavement  below,  clear  and  sharply  drawn  as  a  black 
cartoon.  The  four  extending  sides  of  the  square  lay  half  in 
shades  half  in  light,  with  their  innumerable  columns  and  balco 
nies  and  sculptured  work,  and,  frowning  down  on  all,  in  broken 
light  and  shadow,  stood  the  arabesque  structure  of  St.  Mark's 
itself,  dizzying  the  eyes  with  its  mosaics  and  confused  devices,  aud 
thrusting  forth  the  heads  of  her  four  golden-collared  steeds  into 
the  moonbeams,  till  they  looked  on  that  black  relief,  like  the 
horses  of  Pluto  issuing  from  the  gates  of  Hades.  In  the  centre 
of  the  square  stood  a  tali  woman,  singing,  in  rich  contralto,  an 
old  song  of  the  better  days  of  Venice  ;  and  against  one  of  the 
pillars,  Polichinello  had  backed  his  wooden  stage,  and  beat  about 
his  puppets  with  an  energy  worthy  of  old  Dandolo  and  his  hclmet- 
c<l  galley-men.  To  those  who  wore  not  the  spectacles  of  grief 
or  discontent,  the  square  of  St.  Mark's  that  night  was  like  some 

ing  tableau.     1  never  saw  anything  so  gay. 

Everybody  who  has  "  swam   in   a   gondola,"  knows    how  the 

CY//V.V  of  Venice  thrust  out  their  checkered  awnings  over  a  portion 

of  the  square,  and  filled  the  shaded  space  below  with  chairs  and 

marble  tables.     In  a'  corner  of  the  shadow  thus  afforded,  with 

!•!  coffee  on  a  small  round  slab  between  them,  and  the  flat 
pavement  of  the  public  promenade  under  their  feet,  sat  our  two 
lovers.  With  neither  hoof  nor  wheel  to  drown  or  interrupt  their 

-  (as  in  cities  whose  streets  are  stones,  not  water),  th.-y 
murmured  their  hopes  and  wishes  in  the  softest  language  under 
the  ^un,  and  with  the  sotto  voce  acquired  by  all  the  inhabitants 
of  this  noiseless  city.  Turturilla  had  taken  ice  to  cool  her  and 
coffee  to  take  off  the  chill  of  her  ice,  and  a  bicchicre  del  per f el  to 
amorc  to  reconcile  these  two  antagonists  in  her  digestion,  when 
the  slippers  of  a  mouk  glided  by,  aud  in  a  moment  the  recognized 


PASQUALI,  THE  TAILOR  OF  VENICE.  95 

Father  Gasparo  made  a  third  in  the  shadowy  corner.  The  ex 
pected  bundle  was  under  his  arm,  and  he  was  on  his  way  to  Pas- 
quali's  dwelling.  Having  assured  the  disconsolate  tailor  that  she 
had  unction  and  wafer  as  became  the  wife  of  a  citizen  of  Venice 
like  himself,  he  took  heart  and  grew  content  that  she  was  in  hea 
ven.  It  was  a  better  place,  and  Turturilla  for  so  little  as  a  gold 
ring,  would  supply  her  -place  in  his  bosom. 

The  moon  was  but  a  brief  week  older  when  Pasquali  and  Tur 
turilla  stood  in  the  church  of  our  lady  of  grief,  and  Father  Gas 
paro  within  the  palings  of  the  altar.  She  was  as  fair  a  maid  as 
ever  bloomed  in  the  garden  of  beauty  beloved  of  Titian,  and  the 
tailor  was  nearer  worth  nine  men  to  look  at,  than  the  fraction  of 
a  man  considered-  usually  the  exponent  of  his  profession.  Away 
mumbled  the  good  father  upon  the  matrimonial  service,  thinking 
of  the  old  wine  and  rich  pastries  that  were  holding  their  sweet 
ness  under  cork  and  crust  only  till  he  had  done  his  ceremony,  and 
quicker  by  some  seconds  than  had  ever  been  achieved  before  by 
priest  or  bishop,  he  arrived  at  the  putting  on  of  the  ring.  His 
hand  was  tremulous,  and  (oh  unlucky  omen  !)  he  dropped  it  witb- 
in  the  gilden  fence  of  the  chancel.  The  choristers  were  called, 
and  Father  Gasparo  dropped  on  his  knees  to  look  for  it — but  if 
the  devil  had  not  spirited  it  away,  there  was  no  other  reason  why 
that  search  was  in  vain.  Short  of  an  errand  to  the  goldsmith  on 
the  Rialto,  it  was  at  last  determined  the  wedding  could  not  pro 
ceed.  Father  Gasparo  went  to  hide  his  impatience  within  the 
restiary,  and  Turturilla  knelt  down  to  pray  against  the  arts  of 
Sathanas.  Before  they  had  settled  severally  to  their  pious  occu 
pations,  Pasquali  was  half  way  to  the  Rialto. 

Half  an  hour  elapsed,  and  then  instead  of  the  light  grazing  of 
a  swift-sped  gondola  along  the  church  stairs,  the  splash  of  a  sul- 


96  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


Icn  oar  was  heard,  and  Pasquali  stepped  on  shore.  They  had 
hastened  to  the  door  to  receive  him — monk,  choristers  and  bride 
— and  to  their  surprise  and  bewilderment,  he  waited  to  hand  out 
a  woman  in  a  strange  dress,  who  seemed  disposed,  bridegroom  as 
he  was,  to  make  him  wait  her  leisure.  Her  clothes  fitted  her  ill, 
and  she  carried  in  her  hand  a  pair  of  shoes,  it  was  easy  to  see 
were  never  made  for  her.  She  rose  at  last,  and  as  her  face  be 
came  visible,  down  dropped  Turturilla  and  the  pious  father,  and 
motionless  and  aghast  stood  the  simple  Pasquali.  Fiametta  step- 

* 

ped  on  shore  ! 

In  broken  words  Pasquali  explained.  He  had  landed  at  the 
stairs  near  the  fish  market,  and  with  two  leaps  reaching  the  top, 
sped  off  past  the  buttress  in  the  direction  of  the.  goldsmith,  when 
his  course  was  arrested  by  encountering  at  full  speed,  the  person 
of  an  old  woman.  Hastily  raising  her  up,  ho  recognized  his 
wife,  who,  fully  recovered,  but  without  a  gondola,  was  threading 
the  zig-zag  alleys  on  foot,  on  her  way  to  her  own  domicil.  After 
the  first  astonishment  was  over,  her  dress  explained  the  error  of 
the  good  father  and  the  extent  of  his  own  misfortune.  The 
clothes  had  been  hung  between  the  bed  of  Fiametta  and  that  of 
a  smaller  woman  who  had  been  long  languishing  of  a  consump 
tion.  She  died,  and  Fiametta 's  clothes,  brought  to  the  door  by 
mistake,  were  recognized  by  Father  Gasparo  and  taken  to  Pas 
quali. 

The  holy  monk,  chop-fallen  and  sad,  took  his  solitary  way  to 
the  convent,  but  with  the  first  step  he  felt  something  slide  into 
the  heel  of  his  sandal.  lie  sat  down  on  the  church  stairs  and 
absolved  the  devil  from  theft — it  was  the  lost  ring,  which  had 
fallen  upon  his  foot  and  saved  Pasquali  the  tailor  from  the  pains 
of  bigamy. 


LET  me  introduce  the  courteous  reader  to  two  ladies. 

Miss  Picklin,  a  tall  young  lady  of  twenty-one,  near  enough  to 
good-looking  to  -permit  of  a  delusion  on  the  subject  (of  which, 
however,  she  had  an  entire  monopoly),  with  cheeks  always  red  in 
a  small  spot,  lips  not  so  red  as  tho  cheeks,  and  rather  thiu,  sharp 
ish  nose,  and  waist  very  slender ;  and  last  (not  least  important), 
a  very  long  neck,  scalded  on  either  side  into  a  resemblance  to  a 
scroll  of  shrivelled  parchment,  which  might  or  might  not  be  con 
sidered  as  a  mis-fortuuQ — serving  her  as  a  title-deed  to  twenty 
thousand  dollars.  The  scald  was  inflicted,  and  the  fortune  left  in 
consequence,  by  a  maiden  aunt  who,  in  the  babyhood  of  Miss 
Picklin,  attempted  to  cure  the  child's  sore  throat  by  an  applica 
tion  of  cabbage-leaves  steeped  in  hot  vinegar. 

Miss  Euphemia  Picklin,  commonly  called  Phemie — a  good- 
humored  girl,  rather  inclined  to  be  fat,  but  gifted  with  several 
points  of  beauty  of  which  she  was  not  at  all  aware,  very  much  a 
pet  among  her  female  friends,  and  admitting,  with  perfect  sincer 
ity  and  submission,  her  sister's  exclusive  right  to  the  admiration 
of  the  gentlemen  of  their  acquaintance. 

Captain  Isaiah  Picklin,  the  father  of  these  ladies,  was  a  mer- 


98  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


chant  of  Salem,  an  importer  of  figs  and  opium,  and  once  master 
of  the  brig  "  Simple  Susan,"  which  still -plied  between  his  ware 
house  and  Constantinqple — nails  and  codfish  the  cargo  outward. 
I  have  not  Miss  Picklin's  permission  to  mention  the  precise  date 
of  the  events  I  am  about  to  record,  and  leaving  that  point  alone 
to  the  imagination  of  the  reader,  I  shall  set  down  the  other  par 
ticulars  and  impediments  in  her  "  course  of  true  love  "  with  his 
torical  fidelity. 

Ever  since  she  had  been  of  sufficient  age  to  turn  her  attention 
exclusively  to  matrimony,  Miss  Picklin  had  nourished  a  presenti 
ment  that  her  destiny  was  exotic  ;  that  the  soil  of  Salem  was  too 
poor,  and  the  indigenous  lovers  too  mean  ;  and  that,  potted  in  her 
twenty  thousand  dollars,  she  was  a  choice  production,  set  aside 
for  flowering  in  a  foreign  clime,  and  destined  to  be  transplanted 
by  a  foreign  lover.  With  this  secret  in  her  bosom,  she  had  re 
fused  one  or  two  gentlemen  of  middle  age,  recommended  by  her 
father,  beside  sundry  score  of  young  gentlemen  of  slender  reve 
nues  in  her  own  set  of  acquaintances,  till,  if  there  had  been  any 
thing  beside  poetry  in  Shakspere's  assertion  that  it  is — 

''  Broom  groves 
Whose  shadow  the  dismissed  bachelor  loves," 

the  neighboring  "  brush  barrens  "  of  Saugus  would  have  sold  in 
lots  at  a  premium.  It  was  possibly  from  the  want  of  nightingales, 
to  whose  complaining  notes  the  gentleman  of  Verona  "  turned  his 
distresses,"  that  the  discarded  of  Salem  preferred  the  consolations 
of  Phemie  Picklin. 

News  to  the  Picklins  !  Hassan  Keui,  the  son  of  old  Abdoul 
ivcui,  was  coining  out  in  the  "  Simple  Susan  !"  A  Turk — a  live 


THE  WIDOW  BY  BREVET.  99 

Turk — a  young  1  urk,  and  the  son  of  her  father's  rich  correspon 
dent  in  Turkey  ! '  "Ah  me  !J'  thought  Miss  Picklin. 

The  captain  himself  was  rather  taken  aback.  He  had  known 
old  Abdoul  for  many  years,  had  traded  and  smoked  with  him  m 
the  cafes  of  Galata,  had  gone  out  with  him  on  Sundays  to  lounge 
on  the  tombstones  at  Scutari,  and  had  never  thought  twice  about, 
his  yellow  gown  and  red  trowsers ;  but  what  the  deuce,  would  be 
thought  of  them  in  Salem  ?  True,  it  was  his  son  ;  but  a  Turk's 
clothes  descend  from  father  to  son  through  three  generations  ;  he 
knew  that,  from  remembering  this  very  boy  all  but  smothered  in 
a  sort  of  saffron  blanket,  with  sleeves  like  pillowcases — his  first 
assumption  of  the  toga  virilis  (not  that  old  Picklin  knew  Latin, 
but  such  was  "  his  sentiment  better  expressed'").  Then  he  had 
never  been  asked  to  the  house  of  the  Stamboul  merchant,  not  in 
troduced  to  his  wives  nor  his  daughters  (indeed,  he  had  forgotten 
that  old  Keui  was  near  cutting  his  throat  for  asking  after  them ) 
— but  of  course  it  was  very  different  in  Salem.  Young  Keui 
must  be  the  Picklin  guest,  fed  and  lodged,  and  the  girls  would 
want  to  give  him  a  tea  party.  Would  he  sit  on  a  chair,  or  want 
.cushions  on  the  floor  ?  Would  he  come  to  dinner  with  his  breast 
bare,  and  leave  his  boots  outside  ?  Would  he  eat  rice  pudding 
with  his  fingers  ?  Would  he  think  it  indecent  if  the  girls  didn't 
wear  linen  cloths,  Turkey  fashion,  over  their  mouths  and  noses  ? 
Would  he  bring  his  pipes  ?  Would  he  fall  on  his  face  and  say 
his  prayers  four  times  a  day,  wherever  he  should  be  (with  a  clean 
place  handy)  ?  What  would  the  neighbors  say?  The 'captain 
•worked  himself  into  a  violent  perspiration  with  merely  thinking 
of  all  this. 

The  Salemites  have  a  famous  museum,  and  know  "  what  man- 


1^0  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

ncr  of  thing  is  your  crocodile  ;"  but  a  live  Turk  consigned  to 
Captain  Pickliu  !  It  set  the  town  in  a  fever  ! 

It  would  leave  an  indelicate  opening  for  a  conjecture  as  to  Miss 
Picklin's  present  age,  were  I  to  state  whether  or  not  the  arrival 
of  the  "  Simple  Susan  "  was  reported  by  telegraph.  She  ran  iu 
with  a  fair  wind  one  Sunday  morning,  and  was  immediately  board 
ed  by  the  harbor-master  and  Captain  Picklin  ;  and  there,  true  to 
the  prophetic  boding  of  old  Isaiah,  the  young  Turk  sat  cross-leg 
ged  on  the  quarter-deck,  in  a  white  turban  and  scarlet  et  ceteras, 
smoking  his  father's  identical  pipe — no  other,  the  captain  would 
Lave  taken  his  oath  ! 

Up  rose  Hassan,  when  informed  who  was  his  visitor,  and  taking 
old  Picklin's  hand,  put  it  to  his  forehead.  The  weather-stained 
sea-  captain  iiad^bleached  in  the  counting-house,  and  he  had  not, 
at  first  sight,  remembered  the  old  friend  of  his  father.  He  passed 
the  pipe  in-to  Isaiah's  hand  and  begged  him  to  keep  it  as  a  me- 
nii'iito  of  Abdoul,  for  his  father  had  died  at  the  last  llamazan. 
]Ia-~:m  had  come  out  to  see  the  world,  and  secure  a  continuance 
of  codfish  and  good-will  from  the  house  of  Picklin,  and  the  mer 
chant  got  astride  the  tiller  of  his  old  craft,  and  smoked  this  news 
through  his  amber-mouthed  legacy,  while  the  youth  went  below 
to  got  ready  to  go  ashore. 

The  reader  of  course  would  prefer  to  share  the  first  impressions 
of  the  ladies  as  to  the  young  Mussulman's  personal  appearance, 
and  I  pass  at  once,  therefore,  to  their  disappointment,  surprise, 
mortifioation,  and  vexation ;  when,  as  the  bells  were  ringing  for 
church,  the  front  door  opened,  their  father  entered,  and  in  follow 
ed  a  young  gentleman  in  fiockcoat  and  trowsers  !  Yes,  and  in 
his  hand  a  hat — a  black  hat — and  on  his  feet  no  yellow  boots,  but 
calfskin,  mundane  and  common  calfskin,  and  with  no  shaved  head, 


THE  WIDOW  BY  BREVET.  1Q1 


and  no  twisted  shawl  around  bis  waist ;  nothing  to  be  seen  but  a 
very  handsome  young  man  indeed,  with  teeth  like  a  fresh  slice  of 
cocoa-nut  meat,  and  a  very  deliberate  pronunciation  to  his  bad 
English. 

Miss  Picklin's  disappointment  had  to  be  slept  upon,  for  she 
had  made  great  outlay  of  imagination  upon  the  pomp  and  circum 
stance  of  wedding  a  white  Othello  in  the  eyes  of  wondering  Salem  ; 
but  Phemie's  surprise  took  but  five  minutes  to  grow  into  a  posi 
tive  pleasure  ;  and  never  suspecting,  at  any  time,  that  she  was  vis 
ible  to  the  naked  eye  during  the  eclipsing  presence  of  her  sister, 
she  sat  with  a  very  admiring  smile  upon  her  lips,  and  her  soft 
eyes  fixed  earnestly  on  the  stranger,  till  she  had  made  out  a  full 
inventory  of  his  features,  proportions,  manners,  and  other  stuff 
available  in  dream-land.  What  might  be  Hassan's  impression  of 
the  young  ladies,  could  not  be  gathered  from  his  manner  ;  for,  ia 
the  first  place,  there  was  the  reserve  which  belonged  to  him  as  a 
Turk,  and,  in  the  second  place,  there  was  a  violation  of  all  orien 
tal  notions  of  modesty  in  their  exposing  their  chins  to  the  mascu 
line  observation  ;  and  though  he  could  endure  the  exposure,  it  was 
of  course  with  that  diffidence  of  gaze  which  accompanies  the  con 
sciousness  of  improper  objects — adding  to  his  demeanor  another 
shade  of  timidity. 

Miss  Picklin's  shoulders  were  not  invaded  quite  to  the  limits 
of  terra  cognita  by  the  cabbage-leaves  which  had  exercised  such 
an  influence  on  her  destiny  ;  and  as  the  scalds  somewhat  reeem- 
bled  two  maps  of  South  America  (with  Patagonia  under  each 
ear),  she  usually,  in  full  dress,  gave  a  clear  view  of  the  surround 
ing  ocean — wisely  thinking  it  better  to  have  the  geography  of  her 
disfigurement  well  understood,  than,  by  covering  a  small  extrem 
ity  (as  it  were  the  isthmus  of  Darien),  to  leave  an  undiscovered 


102  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


North  America  to  the  imagination.  She  appeared  accordingly  at 
dinner  in  a  costume  not  likely  to  diminish  the  modest  emban -la 
ment  of  Mr.  Keui  (as  she  chose  to  call  him) — extremely  decollet.6, 
in  a  pink  silk  dress  with  short  sleeves,  and  in  a  turban  with  a 
gold  fringe — the  latter,  of  course,  out  of  compliment  to  his  coun 
try.  "  Money  is  power,"  even  in  family  circles,  and  it  was  only 
Miss  Picklin  who  exercised  the  privilege  of  full  dress  at  a  mid 
day  dinner.  Phemie  came  to  table  dressed  as  at  breakfast,  and 
if  she  felt  at  all  envious  of  her  sister's  pink  gown  and  elbows  to 
match,  it  did  not  appear  in  her  pleasant  face  or  sisterly  attention. 
The  captain  would  allow  anything,  and  do  almost  anything,  for 
his  rich  daughter  ;  but  as  to  dining  with  his  coat  on,  in  hot  wea 
ther,  company  or  no  company,  he  would  rather — 

"be  set  quick  i'  the  earth, 
And  bowled  to  death  with  turnips  " — 

though  that  is  not  the  way  he  expressed  it.  The  parti  carre, 
therefore  (for  there  was  no  Mrs.  Picklin),  was,  in  the  matter  of 
costume,  rather  incongruous,  but,  as  the  Turk  took  it  for  granted 
that  it  was  all  according  to  the  custom  of  the  country,  the  carving 
was  achieved  by  the  shirt-sleeved  captain,  and  the  pudding  "  help 
ed  "  by  his  bare-armed  daughter,  with  no  particular  commotion 
in  the  elements.  Earthquakes  do  not  invariably  follow  violations 
of  ttiquette — particularly  where  nobody  is  offended. 

After  the  first  day,  things  took  their  natural  course — as  near 
as  they  were  able.  Hassan  was  not  very  quick  at  conversation, 
always  taking  at  least  five  minutes  to  put  together  for  delivery  a 
sentence  of  English,  but  his  laugh  did  not  hang  fire,  nor  did  his 
nods  and  smiles ;  and  where  ladies  are  voluble  (as  ladies  some- 


THE  WIDOW  BY  BREVET. 


times  are),  this  paucity  of  ammunition  on  the  gentleman's  part  is 
no  prelude  to  discomfiture.     Then  Phemie  had  a  very  fair  smat 
tering  of  Italian,  and  that  being  the  business  language  of  the  Le 
vant,  Hassan  took  refuge  in  it  whenever  brought  to  a  stand -still 
in  English — a  refuge,  by  the  way,  of  which  he  seemed  inclined  to 
avail  himself  oftener  than  was  consistent  with  Miss  Picklin's  ex 
clusive   property    in   his  attention.     Rebellious   though    Hassan 
might  secretly  have  been  to  this  authority  over  himself,   Phemie 
was  no  accomplice,  natural  modesty  combining  with  the  long  habit 
of  subserviency  to  make  her  even  anticipate  the  exactions  of  the 
heiress  ;  and  so  Miss  Picklin  had  "  Mr.  Keui "  principally  to 
herself,  promenading  him  through  the  streets  of  Salem,  and  be 
stowing  her  sweetness  upon  him  from  his  morning  entrance  to  his 
evening  exit ;  Phemie  relieving  guard  very  cheerfully,  while  her 
sister  dressed  for  dinner.     It  was  possibly  from  being  permitted  to 
converse  in  Italian  during  this  half  hour,  that  Hassan  made  it  the 
only  part  of  the  day  in  which  he  talked  of  himself  and  his  house 
on  the  Bosphorus,  but  that  will  not  account  also  for  Phemie'a 
sighing  while  she  listened — never  having  sighed  before  iu  her  life, 
not  even  while  the  same  voice  was  talking  English  to  her  sister. 
Without  going  into  a  description  of  the  Picklin  tea-party,  at 
which  Hassan  was  induced  to  figure  in  his  oriental  costume,  while 
Miss  Picklin  sat  by  him  on  a  cushion,  turbaned  and  (probably) 
cross  legged,  a  la  Sultana,  and  without  recording  other  signs  sat 
isfactory  to  the  Salemites,  that  the  young  Turk  had  fallen  to  the 
scalded  heiress — 

.  "  As  does  the  ospray  to  the  fish,  that  takes  it, 
By  sovereignty  of  nature  " — 

I  must  come  plump  to  the  fact  that,  on  the  Monday  following 


104  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


(one  week  after  his  arrival)  Hassan  left  Salem,  ^accompanied 
l»y  Miss  Picklin.  As  he  had  asked  for  no  private  interview  in  the 
host  parlor,  and  had  made  his  final  business  arrangements  with  tho 
captain,  so  that  he  could  take  passage  from  New  York  without 
returning,  some  people  were  inclined  to  fancy  that  Miss  Picklin's 
demonstrations  with  regard  to  him  had  been  a  little  premature. 
Aud  "  some  people  "  chose  to  smile.  But  it  was  reserved  for 
Mi-.s  Picklin  to  look  round  in  church,  in  about  one  year  from  this 
event,  and  have  her  triumph  over  "  some  people  ;"  for  she  was 
about  to  sail  for  Constantinople — "  sent  for,"  as  the  captain  rude 
ly  expressed  it.  But  I  must  explain. 

The  "  Simple  Susan  "  came  in,  heavily  freighted  with  a  con 
signment  from  the  house  of  Keui  to  Picklin  &  Co.,  and  a  letter 
from  the  American  consul  at  Constantinople  wrapped  in  tho  in 
voice.  With  the  careful  and  ornate  wording  of  an  official  epistle, 
Jod  that  Effendi  Hassan  Keui  had  called  on  the  consul,  and 
partly  from  the  mistrust  of  his  ability  to  express  himself  in  Eng 
lish  on  so  delicate  a  subject,  but  more  particularly  for  the  sake 
of  approaching  the  object  of  his  affections  with  proper  deference 
and  ceremony,  he  had  requested  that  officer  to  prepare  a  docu 
ment  conveying  a  proposal  of  marriage  to  the  daughter  of  Cap 
tain  Picklin.  The  incomplete  state  of  his  mercantile  arrange 
ments,  while  at  Salem  the  previous  year,  would  account  for  his 
pilence  on  the  subject  at  that  time,  but  he  trusted  that  his  prefer 
ence  had  been  sufficiently  manifest  to  the  lady  of  his  heart ;  and 
as  his  prosperity  in  business  depended  on  his  remaining  at  Con 
stantinople,  enriching  himself  only  for  her  sake,  he  was  sure  that 
the  singular  request  appended  to  his  offer  would"  be  taken  as  a 
mark  of  his  prudence  rather  than  as  a  presumption.  The  cabin 
of  the  "  Simple  Susan,"  as  Captain  Picklin  knew,  was  engaged  on 


THE  WIDOW  BY  BREVET.  105 


her  next  passage  to  Constantinople  by  a  party  of  missionaries, 
male  and  female,  and  the  request  was  to  the  intent  that,  in  case 
of  an  acceptance  of  «his  offer,  the  fair  daughter  of  the  owner  would 
come  out,  under  their  sufficient  protection,  to  be  wedded,  if  she 
should  so  please,  on  the  day  of  her  arrival  in  the  "  Golden  Horn.'' 

As  Mi?s  Picklin  had  preserved  a  mysterious  silence  on  the  sub 
ject  of  "  Mr.  Keui's  "  attentions  since  his  departure,  and  as  a  lady 
with  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  her  own  right  is,  of  course,  quite 
independent  of  parental  control,  the  captain,  after  running  his  eye 
hastily  through  the  document,  called  to  the  boy  who  was  weighing 
out  a  quintal  of  codfish,  and  bid  him  wrap  the  letter  in  a  brown 
paper  and  run  with  it  to  Miss  Picklin — taking  it  for  granted  that 
she  knew  more  about  the  matter  than  he  did,  and  would  explain 
it  all,  when  he  came  home  to  dinner. 

In  thinking  the  matter  over,  on  his  way  home,  it  occurred  to 
old  Picklin  that  it  was  worded  as  if  he  had  but  one  daughter.  At 
any  rate,  he  was  quite  sure  that  neither  of  his  daughters  was 
particularly  specified,  either  by  name  or  age.  No  doubt  it  was 
all  right,  however.  The  girls  understood  it. 

"  So,  it's  you,  miss!"  he  said,  as  Miss  Picklin  looked  round 
from  j;be  turban  she  was  trying  on  before  the  glass. 

"  Certainly,  pa !  who  else  should  it  be  ?» 

And  there  ended  the  captain's  .doubts,  for  he  never  again  got 
sight  of  the  letter,  and  the  turmoil  of  preparation  for  Miss  Pick- 
lin's  voyage,  made  the  house  anything  but  a  place  for  getting  an 
swers  to  impertinent  questions.  Phemie,  whom  the.  news  had 
made  silent  and  thoughtful,  let  drop  a  hint  or  two  that  she  would 
like  to  see  the  letter ;  but  a  mysterious  air,  and  "  La  !  child,  you 
wouldn't  understand  it,"  was  check  enough  for  her  timid  curios- 
5* 


106  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


ity,  and  she  plied  her  needle  upon  her  sister's  wedding  dress 
with  patient  submission. 

The  preparations  for  the  voyage  went  on  swimmingly.  Tho 
missionaries  were  written  to,  and  willingly  consented  to  chaperon 
Miss  Picklin  over  the  seas,  provided  her  union  with  a  pagan  was 
to  be  sanctified  with  a  Christian  ceremonial.  Miss  Picklin  replied 
with  virtuous  promptitude  that  the  cake  for  the  wedding  was  al 
ready  soldered  up  in  a  tin  case,  and  that  she  was  to  be  married 
immediately  on  her  arrival,  under  an  awning  on  the  brig's  deck, 
and  she  hoped  that  four  of  the  missionaries'  wives  would  oblige 
her  by  standing  up  as  her  bridesmaids.  Many  square  feet  of 
codfish  were  unladen  from  the  "  Simple  Susan  "  to  make  room 
for  boxes  and  bags,  and  one  large  case  was  finally  shipped,  the 
contents  of  which  had  been  shopped  for  by  ladies  with  families — 
no  book  of  oriental  travels  making  any  allusion  to  the  sale  of  such 
articles  in  Constantinople,  though,  in  the  natural  course  of  things, 
they  must  be  wanted  as  much  in  Turkey  as  in  Salem. 

The  brig  was  finally  cleared  and  lay  off  in  the  stream,  and  on 
the  evening  before  the  embarkation  the  missionaries  arrived  and 
were  invited  to  a  tea-party  at  the  Picklins.  Miss  Picklin  had 
got  up  a  little  surprise  for  her  friends  with  which  to  close  the 
party — a  "  walking  tableau,"  as  she  termed  it,  in  which  she  should 
suddenly  make  her  apparition  at  one  door,  pass  through  the  room, 
and  go  out  at  the  other,  dressed  as  a  sultana,  with  a  muslin  kirtle 
and  satin  trowsers.  She  disappeared  accordingly  half  an  hour 
before  the  breaking  up  ;  and,  conversation  rather  languishing  in 
her  absence,  the  eldest  of  the  missionaries  rose  to  conclude  the 
cvrning  with  a  prayer,  in  the  midst  of  which  -Miss  Picklin  passed 
through  the  room  unperceived — the  facesfcof  the  company  being 
turned  to  the  wall. 


THE  WIDOW  BY  BREVET.  107 


The  next  morning  at  daylight  the  "  Simple  Susan  "  put  to  sea 
with  a  fair  wind,  and  at  the  usual  hour  for  opening  the  store  of 
Picklin  and  Co.,  she  had  dropped  below  the  horizon.  Pheniio 
sat  upon  the  end  of  the  wharf  and  watched  her  till  she  was  out  of 
sight,  and  the  captain  walked  up  and  down  between  two  puncheons 
of  rum  which  stood  at  the  distance  of  a  quarter-deck's  length  from 
each  other,  and  both  father  and  daughter  were  silent.  The  cap 
tain  had  a  confused  thought  or  two  besides  the  grief  of  parting, 
and  Phemie  had  feelings  quite  as  confused,  which  were  not  all 
made  up  of  sorrow  for  the  loss  of  her  sister.  Perhaps  the  reader 
will  be  at  the  trouble  of  spelling  out  their  riddles  while  I  try  to 
let  him  down  softly  to  the  catastrophe  of  my  story. 

Without  confessing  to  any  ailment  whatever,  the  plump  Phemie 
paled  and  thinned  from  the  day  of  her  sister's  departure.  Her 
spirits,  too,  seemed  to  keep  her  flesh  and  color  company,  and  at 
the  end  of  a  month  the  captain  was  told  by  one  of  the  good  dames 
of  Salem  that  he  had  better  ask  a  physician  what  ailed  her.  The 
doctor  could  make  nothing  out  of  it  except  that  she  might  be 
fretting  for  the  loss  of  her  sister,  and  he  recommended  a  change 
of  scene  and  climate.  That  day  Captain  Brown,  an  old  mate  of 
Isaiah's,  dropped  in  to  eat  a  family  dinner  and  say  good-by,  as  he 
was  about  sailing  in  the  new  schooner  Nancy  for  the  Black  sea — 
his  wife  for  his  only  passenger.  Of  course  he  would  be  obliged 
to  drop  anchor  at  Constantinople  to  wait  for  a  fair  wind  up  the 
Bosphorus,  and  part  of  his  errand  was  to  offer  to  take  letters  and 
nicknackeries  to  Mrs.  Keui.  Old  Picklin  put  the  two  things  to 
gether,  and  over  their  glass  of  wine  he  proposed  to  Brown  to  take 
Phemie  with  Mrs.  Brown  to  Constantinople,  leave  them  both 
'there  on  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Keui,  till  the  return  of  the  Nancy  from 
the  Black  sea,  and  then  re-embark  them  for  Salem.  Phemie 


108  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


came  into  the  room  just  as  they  were  touching  glasses  on  the 
agreement,  and  when  the  trip  was  proposed  to  her  she  first  color 
ed  violently,  then  grew  pale  and  burst  into  tears  ;  but  consented 
to  go.  And,  with  such  preparations  as  she  could  make  that  even 
ing,  she  was  quite  ready  at  the  appointed  hour,  and  was  off  with 
tho  land-breeze  the  next  morning,  taking  leave  of  nobody  but  her 
father.  And  this  time  the  old  man  wiped  his  eyes  very  often  be 
fore  the  departing  vessel  was  "  hull  down,"  and  was  heartily  sorry 
he  had  let  Phetuie  go  without  a  great  many  presents  and  a  great 
many  more  kisses.  *  *  *  * 

A  fine,  breezy  morning  at  Constantinople  ! 

llapidly  down  the  Bosphorus  phot  the  caique  of  Hassan  Koui, 
bearing  its  master  from  his  country-house  at  Dolma-batchi  to  his 
warehouses  at  Galata.  Just  before  the  sharp  prow  rounded  away 
toward  the  Golden  Horn,  the  merchant  motioned  to  the  caikjis  to 
rest  upon  their  oars,  and,  standing  erect  in  the  slender  craft,  he 
strained  his  gaze  long  and  with  anxious  earnestness  toward  the 
sea  of  Marmora.  Not  a  sail  was  to  be  seen  coming  from  the  west, 
except  a  man-of-war  with  a  crescent  flag  at  the  peak,  lying  off 
toward  Scutari  from  Seraglio  point,  and  with  a  sigh  that  carried 
the  cloud  off  his  brow,  Hassan  gayly  squatted  once  more  to  his 
cushions,  and  the  caique  sped  merrily  on.  In  and  out,  among 
the  vessels  at  anchor,  the  'airy  bark  threaded  her  way  with  the 
dexterous  swiftness  of  a  bird,  when  suddenly  a  cable  rose  beneath 
her  and  lifted  her  half  out  of  the  water.  A  vessel  newly-arrived 
was  hauling  in  to  a  close  anchorage,  and  they  had  crossed  her 
hawser  as  it  rose  to  the  surface.  Pitched  headlong  into  the  lap 
of  the  nearest  caikji,  the  Turk's  snowy  turban  fell  into  the  water 
and  was  carried  by  th  e  eddy  under  the  stern  of  the  vessel  round 
ing  to,  and  as  the  caique  was  .driven  backward  to  regain  it,  the 


THE  WIDOW  BY  BREVET.  109 


bareheaded  owner  sank  back  aghast — SIMPLE  SUSAN  OF  SALEM 
stariHg  him  in  Jhe  face  in  golden  capitals. 

"  Oh!  Mr  Keui !  how  do  you  do  !?'  cried  a  well-remembered 
voice,  as  he  raised  himself  to  fend  off  by  the  rudder  of  the  brig. 
And  there  she  stood  within  two  feet  of  his  lips — Miss  PickJin  in 
her  bridal  veil,  waiting  below  in  expectant  modesty,  and  though 
surprised  by  his  peep  into  the  cabin  windows,  excusing  it  as  a 
natural  impatience  in  a  bridegroom  coming  to  his  bride. 

The  captain  of  the  Susan,  meantime,  had  looked  over  the  taf- 
ferel  and  recognized  his  old  passenger,  and  Hassan,  who  would 
have  given  a  cargo  of  opium  for  an  hour  to  compose  himself, 
mounted  the  ladder  which  was  thrown  out  to  him,  and  stepped 
from  the  gangway  into  Miss  Picklin's  arms  !  She  had  rushed  up 
to  receive  him,  dressed  in  her  muslin  kirtle  and  satin  trowsers, 
though,  with  her  dramatic  sense  of  propriety,  she  had  intended  to 
remain  below  till  summoned  to  the  bridal.  The  captain,  of  course, 
kept  back  from  delicacy,  but  the  missionaries  stood  in  a  cluster 
gazing  on  the  happy  meeting,  and  the  sailors  looked  over  their 
shoulders  as  they  heaved  at  tho  windlass.  As  Miss  Picklin  after 
ward  remarked,  "  it  would  have  been  a  tableau  vivant  if  the  deck 
had  not  been  so  very  dirty  !" 

Hassan  wiped  his  eyes,  for  he  had  replaced  his  wet  turban  on 
his  head,  but  what  with  his  escape  from  drowning,  and  what  with 
his  surprise  and  embarrassment  (for  he  had  a  difficult  part  to  play, 
as  the  reader  will  presently  understand),  he  had  lost  all  memory 
of  his  little  stock  of  English.  Miss  Picklin  drew  him  gently  by 
the  hand  to  the  quarter-deck,  where,  under  an  awning  fringed 
with  curtains  partly  drawn,  stood  a  table  with  a  loaf  of  wedding- 
cake  upon  it,  and  a  bottle  of  wine  and  -a  bible.  She  nodded  to 
the  Rev.  Mfc  Griffin,  who  took  hold  of  a  chair  and  turned  it 


HO  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


round,  and  placing  it  against  his  legs  with  the  back  toward  him, 
looked  steadfastly  at  the  happy  couple. 

"  Good  morning — good  night — your  sister — aspetta  !  per  <??«<//•' 
di  Dlo  /"  cried  the  bewildered  Hassan,  giving  utterance  to  all  the 
English  he  could  remembor,  and  seizing  the  bride  by  the  arm. 

"  These  ladies  are  my  bridesmaids,"  said  Miss  Picklin,  point 
ing  to  tlie  missionaries'  wives  who  stood  by  in  their  bonnets  and 
shawls.  "  I  dare  say  he  expected  my  sister  would  come  as  my 
bridesmaid  !"  she  added,  turning  to  Mr  Griffin  to  explain  the 
outbreak  as  she  understood  it. 

Hassan  beat  his  hand  upon  his  forehead,  walked  .twice  up  and 
down  the  quarterdeck,  looked  around  over  the  Golden  Horn  as  if 
in  search  of  an  interpreter  to  his  feelings,  and  finally  walked  up 
to  Miss  Picklin  with  a  look  of  calm  resignation,  and  addressed  to 
her  and  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Griffin  a  speech  of  three  minutes,  in  Ita 
lian.  At  the  close  of  it  he  made  a  very  ceremonious  salaam,  and 
offered  his  hand  to  the  bride ;  and,  as  no  one  present  understood 
a  syllable  of  what  he  had  intended  to  convey  in  his  address,  it 
was  received  as  probably  a  welcome  to  Turkey,  or  perhaps  a  for 
mal  repetition  cf  his  offer  of  heart  and  hand.  At  any  rate,  Miss 
Picklin  took  it  to  be  high  time  to  blush  and  take  off  her  glove, 
and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Griffin  then  bent  across  the  back  of  the  chair, 
joined  their  hands  and  went  through  the  ceremony,  ring  and  all. 
The  ladies  came  up,  one  after  another,  and  kissed  the  bride,  and 
the  gentlemen  shook  hands  with  Hassan,  who  received  their  good 
wishes  with  a  curious  look  of  unhappy  resignation,  and  after  cut 
ting  the  cake  and  permitting  the  bride  to  retire  for  a  moment  to 
calm  her  feelings  and  put  on  her  bonnet,  the  bridegroom  made 
rather  a  peremptory  movement  of  departure,  and  the  happy  cou 
ple  went  off  in  the  caique  toward  Dolma-batchi  amid  much  waving 


THE  WIDOW  BY  BREVET.  HI 

of  handkerchiefs  from  the  missionaries,  and  hurrahs  from  the  Sa 
lem  hands  of  the  Simple  Susan. 

And  now,  before  giving  the  reader  a  translation  of  the  speech 
of  Hassan  before  the  wedding,  we  must  go  back  to  some  little 
events  which  had  taken  place  one  month  previously  at  Constan 
tinople. 

The  Nancy  arrived  off  Seraglio  Point  after  a  very  remarkable 
passage,  having  still  on  her  quarter  the  northwest  breeze  which 
had  stuck  to  her  like  a  bloodhound  ever  since  leaving  the  harbor 
of  Salem.  She  had  brought  it  with  her  to  Constantinople 
indeed,  for  twenty  or  thirty  vessels  which  had  been  long  waiting 
a  favorable  wind  to  encounter  the  adverse  current  of  the  Bosplio- 
rus,  were  loosing  sail  and  getting  under  way,  and  the  pilot, 
knowing  that  the  destination  of  the  Nancy  was  also  to  the  Black 
sea,  strongly  dissuaded  Captain  Brown  from  dropping  anchor  in 
the  Horn,  with  a  chance  of  losing  the  good  luck,  and  lying,  per 
haps  a  month,  wind-bound  in  harbor.  Understanding  that  the 
captain's  only  object  in  stopping  was  to  leave  the  two  ladies  with 
Kcui  the  opium-merchant,  the  pilot,  who  knew  his  residence  at 
Dolma-batchi,  made  signal  for  a  caique,  and  kept  up  the  Bospbo- 
rus.  Arriving  opposite  the  little  village  of  which  Hassan's 
house  was  one  of  the  chief  ornaments,  the  ladies  were  lowered 
into  the  caique  and  sent  ashore — expecting  of  course  to  be 
received  with  open  arms  by  Mrs.  Keui — and  then,  spreading  all 
her  canvass,  the  swift  little  schooner  sped  on  her  way  to  Trebi- 
sond. 

Hassan  sat  in  the  little  pavilion  of  his  house  which  looked  out 
on  the  Bosphorus,  eating  his  pillau,  for  it  was  the  noon  of  a  holy- 
day,  and  he  had  not  been  that  morning  to  Galata.  Recognizing 
at  once  the  sweet  face  of  Phemie  as  the  caique  came  near  the 


112  FUN   JOTTINGS. 


shore,  he  flew  to  meet  her,  supposing  that  the  "  Simple  Susan" 
had  arrived,  and  that  the  lady  of  his  love  had  chosen  to  come 
and  seek  him.  The  reader  will  understand  of  course,  that  there 
was  no  "  Mrs.  Keui." 

And  now  to  shorten  my  story. 

Mrs.  Brown  and  Phemie  w'ere  in  Hassan's  own  house,  with  no 
other  acquaintance  or  protector  on  that  side  of  the  world,  and 
there  was  no  possibility  of  .escaping  a  true  explanation.  The 
mistake  was  explained,  and  explained  to  Brown's  satisfaction. 
Phemie  was  the  "  daughter"  of  Captain  Picklin,  to  whom  the 
offer  was  transmitted,  and  as,  by  blessed  luck,  the  Nancy  had 
outsailed  the  Simple  Susan,  Providence  seemed  to  have  chosen  to 
set  right  for  once,  the  traverse  of  true  love.  The  English 
embassy  was  at  Burgurlu,  only  six  miles  above,  on  the  Bospbo- 
rus,  and  Hassan  and  his  mother  and  sisters,  and  Mrs.  Brown  and 
Phemie  were  soon  on  their  way  thither  in  swift  caiques,  and  the 
happy  couple  were  wedded  by  the  English  chaplain.  The  arrival 
of  the  Simple  Susan  was  of  course  looked  for,  by  both  Hassan 
and  his  bride,  with  no  little  dismay.  She  had  met  with  contrary 
winds  on  the  Atlantic,  and  had  been  caught  in  the  Archipelago 
by  a  Levanter,  and  from  the  damage  of  the  last  she  had  been 
obliged  to  come  to  anchor  off  the  -little  island  of  Paros  and  repair. 
This  had  been  a  job  of  six  weeks,  and  meantime  the  Nancy  had 
given  them  the  go-by,  and  reached  Constantinople. 

Hassan  was  daily  on  the  look-out  for  the  brig  in  his  trips  to 
town,  and  on  the  morning  of  her  arrival,  his  mind  being  put  at 
ease  for  the  day  by  his  glance  toward  the  sea  of  Marmora,  the 
stumbling  so  suddenly  and  so  unprepared  on  the  object  of  his 
dread,  completely  bewildered  and  unnerved  him.  Through  all 
his  confusion,  however,  and  all  the  awkwardness  of  his  situation, 


THE  WIDOW  BY  BREVET. 


there  ran  a  feeling  of  self-condemnation,  as  well  as  pity  for  Miss 
Picklin ;  and  this  had  driven  him  to  the  catastrophe  described 
above.  He  felt  that  he  owed  her  some  reparation,  and  as  the 
religion  in  which  he  was  educated  did  not  forbid  a  plurality  of 
wives, .  and  there  was  no  knowing  but  possibly  she  might  be 
inclined  to  "  do  in  Turkey  as  Turkeys  do,"  he  felt  it  incumbent 
on  himself  to  state  the  fact  of  his  previous  marriage,  and  then 
offer  her  the  privilege  of  becoming  Mrs.  Keui  No.  2,  if  she  chose 
to  accept.  As  he  had  no  English  at  his  command,  he  stated  his 
dilemma  and  made  his  offer  in  the  best  language  he  had — Italian 
— and  with  the  results  the  reader  has  been  made  acquainted. 

Of  the  return  passage  of  Miss  Picklin,  formerly  Mrs.  Keui, 
under  the  charge  of  Captain  and  Mrs.  Brown,  in  the  schooner 
Nancy,  I  have  never  learned  the  particulars.  She  arrived  at 
Salem  in  very  good  health,  however,  and  has  since  been  distin 
guished  principally  by  her  sympathy  for  widows — based  on  what, 
I  cannot  very  positively  say.  She  resides  at  present  in  Salem 
with  her  father,  Captain  Picklin,  who  is  still  the  consignee  of  the 
house  of  Keui,  having  made  one  voyage  out  to  see  the  children 
of  his  daughter  Phemie  and  strengthen  the  mercantile  connexion. 
His  old  age  is  creeping  on  him,  undistinguished  by  anything 
except  the  little  monomania  of  reading  the  letters  from  his  son- 
in-law  at  least  a  hundred  times,  and  then  wafering  them  up  over 
the  fireplace  of  his  counting-room — in  doubt,  apparently,  whether 
he  .rightly  understands  the  contents.  „ 


OR,    THE    STRANGE    ROAD    TO    THE    HEART    OF    MR.    HYPOLET 
LEATHERS. 


Now,  Heaven  rest  the  Phoenicians  for  their  pleasant  invention 
of  tho,  art  of  travel. 


This  is  to  be  a  story  of  love  and  pride,  and  the  hero's  name  ia 
ITypolet  Leathers. 

You  have  smiled  prematurely,  my  friend  and  reader,  if  you 
"  tliink  you  see  "  Mr.  Leathers  foreshadowed,  as  it  were,  in  his 
name. 

(Three  mortal  times  have  I  mended  this  son  of  a  goose  of  a 
pon,  and  it  will  not — as  you  see  by  the  three  unavailing  attempts 
recorded  above — it  will  not  commence,  for  me,  this  tale,  with  a 
practicable  beginning.) 

The  sun  was  rising  (I  think  this  promises  well) — leisurely  rising 
was  the  sun  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Susquehannah.  The  tall 
corn  endeavored  to  lift  its  silk  tassel  out  of  the  sloppy  fog  that 
had  taken  upon  itself  to  rise  from  the  water  and  prognosticate  a 
hot  fair  day,  and  the  driver  of  the  Binghamton  stage  drew  over 


NORA  MEHIDY.  H5 

his  legs  a  two-bushel  bag  as  he  cleared  the  street  of  the  village, 
and  thought  that,  for  a  summer's  morning,  it  was  "  very  cold  " — 
wholly  unaware,  however,  that,  in  murmuring  thus,  he  was  ex 
pressing  himself  as  Hamlet  did  while  waiting  for  his  father's 
ghost  upon  the  platform. 

Inside  the  coach  were  three  passengers.  A  gentleman  sat  by 
the  window  on  the  middle  seat,  with  his  cloak  over  his  lap,  watch 
ing  the  going  to  heaven  of  the  fog  that  had  fulfilled  its  destiny. 
His  mind  was  melancholy — partly  for  the  contrast  he  could  not 
but  draw  between  this  exemplary  vapor  and  himself,  who  was 
"but  a  vapor,"*  and  partly  that  his  pancreas  began  to  apprehend 
some  interruption  of  the  thoroughfare  above— or,  in  other  words, 
that  he  was  hungry  for  his  breakfast,  having  gone  supperless  to 
bed.  He  mused  as  he  rode.  He  was  a  young  man,  about  twen 
ty-five,  and  had  inherited  from  his  father,  John  Leathers,  a  gen 
tleman's  fortune,  with  the  two  drawbacks  of  a  name  troublesome 
to  Phoebus  ("  Phoebus!  what  a  name  !"),  and  premature  gray 
hair.  He  was,  in  all  other  respects,  a  finished  and  well-condi 
tioned  hero — tall,  comely,  courtly,  and  accomplished — and- had 
seen  the  sight-worthy  portions  of  the  world,  and  knew  their  dif 
ferences.  Travel,  indeed,  had  become  a  kind  of  diseased  neces 
sity  with  him — for  he  fled  from  the  knowledge  of  his  name,  and 
from  the  observation  of  his  gray  hair,  like  a  man  fleeing  from 
two  fell  phantoms.  He  was  now  returning  from  Niagara,  and 
left  the  Mohawk  route  to  see  where  the  Susquehannah  makes  its 
Great  Bend  in  taking  final  leave  of  Mr.  Cooper,  who  lives  above ; 

*  "  Man's  but  a  vapor, 

Full  of  woes, 
Cuts  a  caper, 

And  down  he  goes." — Familiar  Ballads. 


H6  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

and  at  the  village  of  the  Great  Bend  he  was  to  eat  that  day's 
breakfast. 

On  the  hack  seat,  upon  the  leather  cushion,  behind  Mr.  Lea 
thers,  sat  two  other  chilly  persons,  a  middle-aged  man  and  a  girl 
of  sixteen — the  latter  with  her  shawl  drawn  close  to  her  arms, 
and  her  dark  eyes  bent  upon  her  knees,  as  if  to  warm  them  (as 
unquestionably  they  did).  Her  black  curls  swung  out  from  her 
bonnet,  like  ripe  grapes  from  the  top  of  an  arbor — heavy,  slum 
berous,  bulky,  prodigal  black  curls — oh,  how  beautiful !  And  I 

do  not  know  that  it  would  be  a  "  trick  worth  an  egg  "  to  make 

i 
any  mystery  of  these   two  persons.     The  gentleman  was  John 

Mehidy,  the  widowed  tailor  of  Binghamton,  and  the  lady  was 
Nora  Mehidy,  his  daughter  ;  and  they  were  on  their  way  to  New 
York  to  change  the  scene,  Mrs.  Mehidy  having  left  the  painful 
legacy  of  love — her  presence — behind  her.  For,  ill  as  he  could 
afford  the  journey,  Mr.  Mehidy  thought  the  fire  of  Nora's  dark 
eyes  might  be  put  out  with  water,  and  he  must  go  where  every 
patch  and  shred  would  not  set  her  a  weeping.  She  "  took  it 
hard,"  as  they  describe  grief  for  the  dead  in  the  country. 

The  Great  Bend  is  a  scene  you  may  look  at  with  pleasure, 
even  while  waiting  for  procrastinated  prog,  and  Hypolet  Leathers 
had  been  standing  for  ten  minutes  on  the  high  bank  around  which 
the  Susquehannah  sweeps,  like  a  train  of  silver  tissue  after  a 
queen  turning  a  corner,  when  passed  him  suddenly  tripped  Nora 
Mehidy  bonnetless,  and  stood  gazing  on  the  river  from  the  outer 
edge  of  the  precipice.  Leathers'  visual  consciousness  dropped 
into  that  mass  of  clustering  hair  like  a  ring  into  the  sea,  and  dis 
appeared.  His  soul  dived  after  it,  and  left  him  with  no  sense  or 
remembrance  of  how  his  outer  orbs  were  amusing  themselves. 
Of  what  unpatented  texture  of  velvet,  and  of  what  sifting  of  dia- 


NORA  MEHIDY. 


in 


niond  dust  were  those  lights  and  shadows  manufactured  !  What 
immeasurable  thickness  in  those  black  flakes — compared,  with  all 
locks  that  he  had  ever  seen,  as  an  edge  of  cocoa-meat,  fragrantly 
and  newly  broken,  to  a  torn  leaf,  limp  with  wilting.  Nora  stood 
motionless,  absorbed  in  the  incomparable  splendor  of  that  silver 
hook  bent  into  the  forest — Leathers  as  motionless,  absorbed  in 
her  wilderness  of  jetty  locks — till  the  barkeeper  rang  the  bell  for 
them  to  come  to  breakfast.  Ah,  Hypolet !  Hypolet !  what  dark 
thought  came  to  share,  with  that  innocent  beefsteak,  your  morn 
ing's  digestion ! 

That  tailors  have,  and  why  they  have,  the  handsomest  daugh 
ters,  in  all  countries,  have  been  points  of  observation  and  specu 
lation  for  physiology,  written  and  unwritten.  Most  men  know 
the  fact.  Some  writers  have  ventured  to  guess  at  the  occult  se 
cret.  But  I  think  "  it  needs 'no  ghost,  come  from  the  grave,''  to 
unravel  the  matter.  Their  vocation  is  the  embellishment — part 
ly  indeed  the  creation — of  material  beauty.  If  philosophy  sit  on 
their  shears  (as  it  should  ever),  there  are  questions  to  decide 
which  discipline  the  sense  of  beauty — the  degree  in  which  fashion 
should  be  sacrificed  to  becomingness,  and  the  resistance  to  the 
invasion  of  the  poetical  by  whim  and  usage,  for  example — and  as 
a  man  thinketh — to  a  certain  degree — so  is  his  daughter.  Beau 
ty  is  the  business-thought  of  every  day,  and  the  desire  to  know 
how  best  to  remedy  its  defects  is  the  ache  and  agony  of  the  tailor's 
soul,  if  he  be  ambitious.  Why  should  not  this  have  its  exponent 
on  the  features  of  the  race,  as  other  strong  emotions  have — plas 
tic  and  malleable  as  the  human  body  is,  by  habit  and  practice. 
Shakspere,  by-the-way,  says — 

'Tis  use  that  breeds  a  liabit  in  a  man, 


113  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


aud  I  own  to  the  dulncss  of  never  till  now  apprehending  that  this 
remarkable  passage  typifies  the  stepping  of  superfine  broadcloth 
(made  into  superfine  halits)  into  the  woof  and  warp  of  the  tailor's 
idiosyncracy.  Q.  E.  D. 

Xora  Mehidy  had  ways  with  her  that,  if  the  world  had  not  been 
thrown  into  a  muss  by  Eve  and  Adam,  would  doubtless  have  been 
kept  for  queens.  Leathers  was  particularly  struck  with  her  never 
lifting  up  her  eyelids  till  sh»was  ready.  ]f  she  chanced  to  be 
looking  thoughtfully  down  when,  he  spoke  to  her,  which  was  her 
habit  of  sadness  just  now,  she  heard  what  he  had  to  say  and 
commenced  replying — and  then,  slowly,  up  went  the  lids,  comb 
ing  the  loving  air  with  their  long  lashes,  and  no  more  hurried 
than  the  twilight  taking  its  fringes  off  the  stars.  It  was  adorable 
— altogether  adorable !  And  her  hands  and  lips,  and  feet  and 
shoulders,  had  the  same  contemptuous  and  delicious  deliberate- 
ness. 

On  the  second  evening,  at  half  past  five — just  half  an  hour  too 
late  for  the  "  Highlander  "  steamer — the  "  Binghamton  stage  " 
slid  down  the  mountain  into  Newburgh,  The  next  boat  was  to 
touch  at  the  pier  at  midnight,  and  Leathers  had  six  capacious 
hours  to  work  on  the  mind  of  John  Mehidy.  What  was  the  pro 
cess  of  that  fiendish  temptation,  what  the  lure  and  the  resistance, 
is  a  secret  locked  up  with  Moloch — but  it  was  successful !  The 
glorious  c/tecelure.  of  the  victim — (sweet  descriptive  word — chei-f- 
lure  !) — the  matchless  locks  that  the  matchlocks  of  armies  should, 
have  defended — went  down  in  the  same  boat  with  Xora  Mehidy, 
but  tied  up  in  Mr.  Leathers'  linen  pocket-handkerchief !  And, 
in  one  week  from  that  day,  the  head  of  Hypolet  Leathers  was 
fchaven  nude,  and  the  black  cuvls  of  Nora  Mehidy  were  placed 
upon  its  irritated  organs  in  an  incomparable  WIG  ! ! 


NORA  MEHIDY.  119 

A  year  had  elapsed.  It  was  a  warm  day,  in  No.  77  of  the  As- 
tor,  and  Hypolet  Leathers, .  Esq.,  arrived  a  week  before  by  the 
Great  Western,  sat  aiding  the  evaporation  from  his  brain  by  lotions 
of  iced  lavender.  His  wig  stood  before  him,  on  the  blockhead  that 
was  now  his  inseparable,  companion,  the  back  toward  him ;  and 
as  the  wind  chased  off  the  volatile  lavender  from  the  pores  of  his 
skull,  he  toyed  thoughtfully  with  the  lustrous  curls  of  Nora  Me 
hidy.  His  heart  was  on  that  woodenjblock  !  He  dressed  his  own 
wig  habitually,  and  by  dint  of  perfuming,  combing,  and  caressing 
those  finger-like  ringlets — he  had  tangled  up  his  heart  in  their 
meshes.  A  phantom,  with  the  superb  face  of  the  owner,  stayed 
with  the  separated  locks,  and  it  grew  hourly  more  palpable  and 
controlling.  The  sample  had  made  him  sick  at  heart  for  the 
remainder.  He  wanted  the  rest  of  Nora  Mehidy.  He  had  come 
over  for  her.  He  had  found  John  Mehidy,  following  his  trade 
obscurely  in  a  narrow  lane,  and  he  had  asked  for  Nora's  /tand. 
But  though  this  was  not  the  whole  of  his  daughter,  and  he  had 
already  sold  part  of  her  to  Leathers,  he  shook  his  head  over  his 
shiny  shears.  Even  if  N^ra  could  be  propitiated  after  the  sacri 
fice  she  had  made  (which  he  did  not  believe  she  could  be),  he 
would  as  lief  put  her  in  the  world  of  spirits  as  in  a  world  above 
him.  She  was  his  life,  and  he  would  not  give  his  life  willingly  to 
a  stranger  who  would  take  it  from  him,  or  make  it  too  fine  for  his 
u?ing.  Oh,  no  !  Nora  must  marry  a  tailor,  if  she  marry  at  all — 
and  this  was  the  adamantine  resolution,  stern  and  without  appeal, 
of  John  Mehidy.  % 

Some  six  weeks  after  this,  a  new  tailoring  establishment  of 
great  -outlay  and  magnificence  was  opened  in  Broadway.  The 
bhow-window  was  like  a  new  revelation  of  stuff  for  trowsers,  and 
resplendent,  but  not  gaudy,  were  the  neckcloths  and  waistcoatings 


120  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


— for  absolute  taste  reigned  over  all.  There  was  not  au  article 
on  show  possible  to  William  street — oiot  a  waistcoat  that,  seen  iu 
Maiden  lane,  would  not  have  been  as  unsphered  as  the  Lost 
Pleiad  in  Botany  Bay.  It  was  quite  clear  that  there  was  some 
one  of  the  firm  of  "Mehidy  &  Co."  (the  new  sign)  who  exercised 
his  taste  "  from  within,  out,"  as  the  Germans  say  of  the  process 
of  true  poetry.  He  began  inside  a  gentleman,  that  is  to  say,  to 
guess  at  what  was  wanted  for  a  gentleman's  outside.  He  was  a 
tailor-gentleman,  and  was  therefore,  and  by  that  quality  only,  fit 
ted  to  be  a  gentleman's  tailor. 

The  dandies  flocked  to  Mehidy  &  Co.  They  could  not  be 
measured  immediately — oh  no  !  The  gentleman  to  be  built  was 
requested  to  walk  about  the  shop  for  a  half  hour,  till  the  foreman 
got  him  well  in  his  eye,  and  then  to  call  again  in  a  week.  Mean 
time  he  would  mark  his  customer  in  the  street,  to  see  how  he 
performed.  Mehidy  &  Co.  never  ventured  to  take  measure  for 
terra  incognita.  The  man's  gait,  shrug,  speed,  style,  and  qual 
ity,  were  all  to  be  allowed  for,  and  these  were  not  seen  in  a  min 
ute.  And  a  very*  sharp  and  stylish  looking  fellow  seemed  that 
foreman  to  be.  There  was  evidently  spoiled  some  very  capable 
stuff  for  a  lord  when  he  was  made  a  tailor. 

"  His  leaf, 

By  some  o'er  hasty  angel,  was  misplaced 
In  Fate's  eternal  volume." 

And,  faith  !  it  was  a  study  to  see  him  take  a  customer's  measure  ! 
The  quiet  contempt  with  which  he  overruled  the  man's  indigenous 
idea  of  a  coat ! — the  rather  satirical  comments  on  his  peculiarities 
of  wearing  his  kerseymere  ! — the  cool  survey  of  the  adult  to  be 
embellished,  as  if  he  were  inspecting  him  for  admission  to  the 


NORA    MEHIDY.  121 

grenadiers  ! — On  the  whole,  it  was  a  nervous  business  to  be  meas 
ured  for  a  coat  by  that  fellow  with  the  devilish  fine  head  of  black 
hair  ! 

And,  with  the  hair  upon./fo's  head,  from  which  Nora  had  ouce 
no  secrets — with  the  curls  upon  his  cheek  and  temples  which  had 
once  slumbered  peacefully  over  hers,  Hypolet  Leathers,  the  fore 
man  of  "Mehidy  &  Co.,"  made  -persevering  love  to  the  tailor's 
magnificent  daughter.  For  she  was  magnificent !  She  had  just 
taken  that  long  stride  from  girl  to  woman,  and  her  person  had 
filled  out  to  the  imperial  and  voluptuous  model  indicated  by  her 
deliberate  eyes.  With  a  dusky  glow  in  her  cheek,  that  looked 
like  a  peach  teinted  by  a  rosy  twilight,  her  mouth,  up  to  tho 
crimson  edge  of  its  bow  of  Cupid,  was  moulded  with  the  slum 
berous  fairness  of  newly  wrought  sculpture,  and  gloriously  beau 
tiful  in  expression.  She  was  a  creature  for  whom  a  butterfly 
might  do  worm  over  again — to  whose  condition  in  life,  if  need  bo, 
a  prince  might  proudly  come  down-  Ah,  queenly  Nora  MeliiJy  ! 

But  the  wooing — alas  !  the  wooing  throve  slowly  !  Tnat  love 
ly  head  was  covered  again  with  prodigal  locks,  in  short  and  mas 
sive  clusters,  but  Leathers  was  pertinacious  as  to  his  property  id 
the  wig,  and  its  becomingness  and  indispensableness — and  to  be 
made  love  to  by  a  man  in  her  own  hair  ! — to  be  obliged  to  keep 
her  own  dark  curls  at  a  respectful  distance  ! — to  forbid  all  inter 
course  between  them  and  their  children-ringlets,  as  it  were— it 
roughened  the  course  of  Leather's  true  love  that  Nora  must 
needs  be  obliged  to  reason  on  such  singular  dilemmas.  For, 
though  a  tailor's  daughter,  she  had  been  furnished  by  nature  with 
an  imagination  ! 

But  virtue,  if  nothing  more  and  no  sooner,  is  its  own  reward, 
and  in  time  "  to  save  its  bacon."  John  Mchidy's  fortune  was 
6 


122  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


pretty  well  assured  in  the  course  of  two  years,  and  made,  in  bis 
own  line,  by  his  proposed  son-in-law,  and  he  could  no  longer  re 
fuse  to  throw  into  the  scale  the  paternal  authority.  Nora's  hair 
was,  by  this  time,  too,  restored  to  ks  pristine  length  and  luxur- 
iousness,  and,  on  condition  that  Ilypolet  would  not  exact  a  new 
wig  from  his  new  possessions,  Nora,  one  summer's  night,  made 
over  to  him  the  remainder.  The  long  exiled  locks  revisited  their 
natal  soil,  during  the  caresses  which  sealed  the  compact,  and  a 
very  good  tailor  was  spoiled  the  week  after,  for  the  married 
Leathers  became  once  more  a  gentleman  at  large,  having  bought, 
in  two  instalments,  at  an  expense  of  a  hundred  dollars,  a  heart, 
and  two  years  of  service,  one  of  the  finest  properties  of  which 
Heaven  and  a  gold  ring  ever  gave  mortal  the  copyhold !  - 


THE  MARQUIS  IN  PETTICOATS, 

(THE   OUTLINE    FROM    A.   FRENCH   MEMOIR.) 

I  INTRODUCE  you  at  once  to  the  Marquis  de  la  Chetardie — a 
diplomatist  who  figured  largely  in  the  gay  age  of  Louis  XV. — and 
the  story  is  but  one  of  the  illuminated  pages  of  the  dark  book  of 
diplomacy. 

Charles  de  la  Chetardie  appeared  for  the  first  time  to  the  eyes 
of  the  king  at  a  masquerade  ball,  given  at  Versailles,  under  the 
auspices  of  la  Idle  Pompadour.  He  was  dressed  as  a  young  lady 
of  high  rank,  making  her  debut ;  and,  so  perfect  was  his  acting, 
and  the  deception  altogether,  that  Louis  became  enamored  of  the 
ifcsguised  marquis,  and  violently  excited  the  jealousy  of  "  Ma 
dame,"  by  his  amorous  attentions.  An  eclair cissement,  of  course, 
took  place,  and  the  result  was  a  great  partiality  for  the  marquis's 
society,  and  his  subsequent  employment,  in  and  out  of  petticoats, 
in  many  a  scheme  of  state  diplomacy  and  royal  amusement. 

La  Chetardie  was  at  this  time  just  eighteen.  He  was  very 
slight,  and  had  remarkably  small  hands  and  feet,  and  the  radiant 
fairness  of  his  skin  and  the  luxuriant  softness  of  his  profuse 
chestnut  curls,  might  justly  have  been  the  envy  of  the  most 
delicate  woman.  He  was,  at  first,  subjected  to  some  ridicule  for 


124  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


his  effeminacy,  but  the  merry  courtiers  were  soon  made  aware, 
that,  under  this  velvet  fragility  lay  concealed  the  strength  and 
ferocity  of  the  tiger.  The  grasp  of  his  small  hand  was  like  an 
iron  vice,  and  his  singular  activity,  and  the  cool  courage  which 
afterward  gave  him  a  brilliant  career  on  the  battle-field,  estab 
lished  him,  in  a  very  short  time,  as  the  most  formidable  swords 
man  of  the  court.  His  ferocity,  however,  lay  deeply  concealed 
in  his  character,  and,  unprovoked,  he  was  the  gayest  aud  most 
brilliant  of  merry  companions. 

This  was  the  age  of  occult  and  treacherous  diplomacy,  and  the 
court  of  Russia,  where  Louis  would  fain  have  exercised  an  influence 
(private  as  well  as  political  in  its  results),  was  guarded  by  an 
implacable  Argus,  in  the  person  of  the  prime  minister,  Bestu- 
cheff.  Aided  by  Sir  Hambury  Williams,  the  English  ambassador, 
one  of  the  craftiest  men  of  that  crafty  period,  he  had  succeeded 
fur  some  years  in  defeating  every  attempt  at  access  to  the 
imperial  ear  by  the  secret  emissaries  of  France.  The  sudden 
appearance  of  La  Chetardie,  his  cool  self-command,  and  his 
successful  personation  of  a  female,  suggested  a  new  hope  to  tho 
king,  however ;  and,  called  to  Versailles  by  royal  mandate,  the 
young  marquis  was  taken  into  cabinet  confidence,  and  a  secret 
mission  to  St.  Petersburgh,  in  petticoats,  proposed  to  him  and 
accepted. 

With  his  instructions  and  secret  dispatches  stitched  into  his 
corsets,  and  under  the  ostensible  protection  of  a  scientific  man, 
who  was  to  present  him  to  the  tzarine  as  a  Mademoiselle  de 
Beaumont,  desirous  of  entering  the  service  of  Elizabeth,  the 
marquis  reached  St.  Petersburgh  without  accident  or  adventure. 
The  young  lady's  guardian  requested  an  audience  through  Bestu- 
cheff,  and  having  delivered  the  open  letters  recommending  her 


THE  MARQUIS  IN  PETTICOATS. 


for  her  accomplishments  to  the  imperial  protection,  he  begged 
leave  to  continue  on  his  scientific  tour  to  the  central  regions  of 
Russia. 

Conge  was  immediately  granted,  and  on  the  disappearance  of 
the  savant,  and  before  the  departure  of  Bestucheff,  the  tzarine 
threw  off  all  ceremony,  and  pinching  the  cheeks  and  imprinting 
a  kiss  on  the  forehead  of  the  beautiful  stranger,  appointed  her, 
by  one  of  those  sudden  whims  of  preference  against  which  her 
ministers  had  so  much  trouble  to  guard,  lectrice  intime  et  particit- 
liere — in  short,  confidential  personal  attendant.  The  blushes  of 
the  confused  marquis,  who  was  unprepared  for  so  affectionate  a 
reception,  served  rather  to  heighten  the  diaguise,  and  old 
Bestucheff  bowed  himself  out  with  a  compliment  to  the  beauty 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Beaumont,  veiled  in  a  diplomatic  congratula 
tion  to  her  imperial  mistress.  • 

Elizabeth  was  forty  and  a  little  passee,  but  she  still  had  pre 
tensions,  and  was  particularly  fond  of  beauty  in  her  attendants, 
female  as  well  as  male.  Her  favorite,  of  her  personal  suite, 
at  the  time"  of  the  arrival  of  the  marquis,  was  an  exquisite 
little  creature  who  had  been  sent  to  her,  as  a  compliment  to'ftiis 
particular  taste,  by  the  Dutchess  of  Mecklenberg-Strelitz — a  kind 
of  German  "  Fenella,"  or  "  Mignon,"  by  the  name  of  Nadege 
Stein.  Not  much  below  the  middle  size,  Nadege  was  a  model  of 
symmetrical  proportion,  and  of  very  extraordinary  beauty.  She 
had  been  carefully  educated  for  her  present  situation,,  and  was 
highly  accomplished ;  a  fine  reader,  and  a  singularly  sweet 
musician  and  dancer.  Tho  tzarine's  passion  for  this  lovely 
attendant  was  excessive,  and  the  arrival  of  a  new  favorite  of  the 
same  sex  was  looked  upon  with  some  pleasure  by  the  eclipsed 
remainder  of  the  palace  idlers. 


126  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


Elizabeth  summoned  Xadege,  and  committed  Mademoiselle  de 
Beaumont  temporarily  to  her  charge  ;  but  the  same  mysterious 
magnetism  which  had  reached  the  heart  of  the  tzarine,  seemed  to 
kindle,    quite    as    promptly,   the  affections    of    her    attendant. 
Nadege  was   no  sooner  alone   with   her   new  friend,  than    she 
jumped  to  her  neck,  smothered  her  with  kisses,  cajled  her  by 
every  endearing  epithet,  and  overwhelmed   her  with  questions, 
mingled  with  the  most  childlike  exclamations  of  wonder  at  her 
own  inexplicable  love  for  a  stranger.     In  an  hour  she  had  shown 
to  the   new  demoiselle  all  the  contents   of  the  little  boudoir  in 
which  she  lived ;  talked  to  her  of  her  loves  and  hates  at  the 
Russian  court ;  of  her  home  in   Mecklenberg,  and  her  present 
situation — in  short,  poured  out  her  heart  with  the  naif  abandon 
of  a  child.     The  young  marquis  had  never  seen  so  lovely  a  crea 
ture  ;  and,  responsibly «as  he  felt  his  difficult  and  delicate  situa 
tion,  he  returned  the  affection  so  innocently  lavished  upon  him, 
and  by  the  end  of  this  first  fatal  hour,  was  irrecoverably  in  love. 
And,  gay  as  his  life  had  been  at  the  French  court,  it  was  the  first 
and  subsequently  proved  to  be  the  deepest  passion  of1  his  life. 

On  the  tzarine's  return  to  her  private  apartment,  she  summon 
ed  her  new  favorite,  and  superintended,  with  condescending  solic 
itude,  the  arrangements  for  her  palace  lodging.  Nadege  inhabit 
ed  a  small  tower  adjoining  the  bedroom  of  her  mistress,  and  above 
this  was  an  unoccupied  room,  which,  at  the  present  suggestion  of 
the  fairy  little  attendant,  was  allotted  to  the  new-comer.  The 
staircase  opened  by  one  door  into  the  private  gardens,  and  by  the 
opposite,  into  the  corridor  leading  immediately  to  the  imperial 
chamber.  •  The  marquis's  delicacy  would  fain  have  made  some 
objection  to  this  very  intimate  location ;  but  he  could  hazard  no 
thing  against  the  interests  of  his  sovereign,  and  he  trusted  to  a 


'rHE  MARQUIS  IN  PETTICOATS. 


speedy  termination  of  his  disguise  with  the  attainment  of  hia 
object.  Meantime,  the  close  neighborhood  of  the  fair  Nadege 
was  not  the  most  intolerable  of  necessities. 

The  marquis's  task  was  a  very  difficult  one.  He  was  instruct 
ed,  before  abandoning  his  disguise  and  delivering  his  secret 
despatches,  to  awaken  the  interest  of  the  tzarine  on  the  two  sub 
jects  to  which  the  documents  had  reference  :  viz.,  a  former  par 
tiality  of  her  majesty  for  Louis,  and  a  formerly  discussed  project 
of  seating  the  Prince  de  Conti  on  the  throne  of  Poland".  Bestu- 
cheff  had  so  long  succeeded  in  cutting  off  all  approach  of  these 
topics  to  the  ear  of  the  tzarine,  that  'her  majesty  had  probably 
forgotten  them  altogether. 

Weeks  passed  and  the  opportunities  to  broach  these  delicate 
subjects  had  been  inauspiciously  rare.  Mademoiselle  de  Beau 
mont,  it  is  true,  had  completely  eclipsed  the  favorite  Nadege  ; 
and  Elizabeth,  in  her  hours  of  relaxation  from  state  affairs, 
exacted  the  constant  attendance  of  the  new  favorite  in  her  pri 
vate  apartments.  But  the  almost  constant  presence  of  some 
other  of  the  maids  of  honor,  opposed  continual  obstacles  and  in 
terruptions,  and  the  tzarine  herself  was  not  always  disposed  to 
talk  of  matters  more  serious  than  the  current  trifles  of  the  hour. 
She  was  extremely  indolent  in  her  personal  habits  ;  and  often 
reclining  at  length  upon  cushions  on  the  floor  of  her  boudoir,  she 
laid  her  imperial  head  in  the  lap  of  the  embarrassed  demoiselle, 
and  was  soothed  to  sleep  by  reading  and  the  bathing  of  her  tem 
ples.  And  during  this  period,  she  exacted  frequently  of  the  mar 
quis,  with  a  kind  of  instinctive  mistrust,  promises  of  continuance 
for  life  in  her  personal  service. 

But  there  were  sweeter  hours  for  the  enamored  La  Chetardic 
than  those  passed  in  the  presence  of  his  partial  and  imperial 


j-23  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

mistress.  Encircled  by  sentinels,  and  guarded  from  all  intrusion 
of  other  eyes,  in  the  inviolable  sanctuary  of  royalty,  tbe  beauti 
ful  Nadege,  impassioned,  she  knew  not  why,  in  her  love*  for  her 
new  companion,  was  ever  within  call,  and  happy  in  devoting  to 
him  all  her  faculties  of  caressing  endearment.  He  had  not  yet 
dared  to  risk  the  interests  of  his  sovereign  by  a  disclosure  of  his 
sex,  oven  in  the  confidence  of  love.  He  could  not  trust  Nadege 
to  play  so  difficult  apart  as  that  of  possessor  of  so  embarrassing 
a  secret  in  the  presence  of  the  shrewd  and  observing  tzarine.  A 
betrayal,  too,  would  at  once  put  an  end  to  his  happiness.  W  ith 
the  slight  arm  of  the  fair' and  relying  creature  about  his  waist, 
and  her  head  pressed  close  against  his  breast,  they  passed  the 
balmy  nights  of 'the  Russian  summer  in  pacing  the  flowery  alleys 
of  the  imperial  garden,  discoursing,  with  but  one  reserve,  on 
every  subject  that  floated  to  their  lips.  It  required,  however,  all 
the  self-control  of  La  Chetardie,  and  all  the  favoring  darkness  of 
the  night,  to  conceal  his  smiles  at  the  naive  confessions  of  the 
unconscious  girl,  and  her  wonderings  at  the  peculiarity  of  her 
feelings.  She  had  thought,  hitherto,  that  there  were  affections  in 
her  nature  which  could  only  be  called  forth  by  a  lover.  Yet 
now,  the  thought  of  caressing  another  than  her  friend — of  repeat 
ing  to  any  human  ear,  least  of  all  to  a  man,  those  new-born  vows 
of  love — filled  her  with  alarm  and  horror.  She  felt  that  she  had 
given  her  heart  irrevocably  away — and  to  a  woman  !  Ali,  with 
what  delirious,  though  silent  passion,  La  Chetardie  drew  her  to 
his  bosom,  and  with  the  pressure  of  his  lips  upon  hers,  interrupt 
ed  those  sweet  confessions  ! 

Yet  the  time  at  last  drew  near  for  the  waking  from  this  celes 
tial  'bream.  The  disguised  diplomatist  had  found  his  o'pportunity, 
and  had  successfully  awakened  in  Elizabeth's  mind  both  curiosity 


THE  MARQUIS  IN  PETTICOATS.  129 


and  interest  as  to  the  subjects  of  the  despatches  still  sewed  safely 
in  his  corsets.  There  remained  nothing  for  him  now  but  to  seize 
a  favorable  opportunity,  and,  with  the  delivery  of  his  missives,  to 
declare  his  sex  to  the  tzarine.  There  waj(  risk  to  life  and  liberty 
in  this,  but  the  marquis  knew  not  fear,  and  he  thought  but  of  its 
consequences  to  his  love. 

In  La  Chetardie's  last  interview  with  the  savant  who  conduct 
ed  him  to  Russia,  his  male  attire  had  been  successfully  transfer 
red  from  one  portmanteau  to  the  other,  and  it  was  now  in  his 
possession,  ready  for  the  moment  of  need.  With  his  plans 
brought  to  within  a  single  night  of  the  denouement,  he  parted 
from  the  tzarine,  having  asked  the  imperial  permission  for  an 
hour's  private  interview  on  the  morrow,  and,  with  gentle  force 
.excluding  Nadege  from  his  apartment,  he  dressed  himself  in  his 
proper  costume,  and  cut  open  the  warm  envelope  of  his  despatch 
es.  This  done,  he  threw  his  cloak  over  him,  and,  with  a  dark 
lantern  in  his  hand,  sought  Nadege  in  the  garden.  He  had 
determined  to  disclose  himself  to  her,  renew  his  vows  of  love  in 
his  proper  guise,  and  arrange,  while  he  had  access  and  oppor;u- 
city,  some  means  for  uniting  their  destinies  hereafter. 

As  he  opened  the  door  of  the  turret,  Nadege  flew  up  the  stair 
to  meet  him,  and  observing  the  cloak  in  the  faint  glimmer  of  the 
stars,  she  playfully  endeavored  to  envelope  herself  in  it.  But 
seizing  her  hands,  La  Chetardie  turned  and  glided  backward, 
drawing  her  after  him  toward  a  small  pavilion  in  the  remoter  part 
of  the  garden.  Here  they  had  never  been  interrupted,  the 
empress  alone  having  the  power  to  intrude  upon  them,  and  La 
Chetardie  felt  safe  in  devoting  this  place  and  time  to  the  double 
disclosure  -of  his  secret  and  his  suppressed  passion. 

Persuading  her  with  difficulty  to  desist  from  putting  her  arms 
•6* 


130  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


about  Mm  and  sit  down  without  a  caress,  he  retreated  a  few  steps, 
and  in  the  darkness  of  the  pavilion,  shook  down  his  imprisoned 
locks  to  their  masculine  abandon,  threw  off  his  cloak,  and  drew 
up  the  blind  of  his  lantern.  The  scream  of  surprise,  which 
instantly  parted  from  the  lips  of  Nadege,  made  him  regret  his 
imprudence  in  not  having  prepared  her  for  the  transformation, 
but  her  second  thought  was  mirth,  for  she  could  believe  it  of 
course  to  be  nothing  but  a  playful  masquerade  ;  and  with  delight- 
laughter  she  sprang  to  his  neck,  and  overwhelmed  him  with 
her  kisses — another  voice,  however,  joining  very  unexpectedly  in 
the  laughter  ! 

The  empress  stood  before  them  ! 

For  an  instant,  with  all  his  self-possession,  La  Chetardie  was 
confounded  and  dismayed.  Siberia,  the  knout,  the  scaffold,  flit 
ted  before  his  eyes,  and  Nadege  was  the  sufferer  !  But  X  glance 
at  the  face  of  the  tzarine  reassured  him.  She,  too,  took  it  for  a 
girlish  masquerade 

But  the  empress,  unfortunately,  was  not  disposed  to  have  a 
partner  in  her  enjoyment  of  the  society  of  this  new  apparition  of 
"  hose  and  doublet."  She  ordered  Nadege  to  her  turret,  with 
one  of  those  petulant  commands  which  her  attendants  understood 
to  admit  of  no  delay,  and  while  the  eclipsed  favorite  disappeared 
with  the  tears  of  unwilling  submission  in  her  soft  eyes,  La  Che 
tardie  looked  after  her  with  the  anguish  of  eternal  separation  at 
his  heart,  for  a  presentiment  crowded  irresistibly  upon  him  that 
he  should  never  see  her  more  ! 

The  empress  was  in  slippers  and  robe  de  nuit,  and,  as  if  fate 
had  determined  that  this  well-kept  secret  should  not  survive  the 
hour,  her  majesty  laid  her  arm  within  that  of  her  supposed  mas- 
querader,  and  led  the  way  to  the  palace.  She  was  wakeful,  and 


THE  MARQUIS  IN  PETTICOATS.  131 


wished  to  be  read  to  sleep.  "And,  with  many  a  compliment  to 
the  beauty  of  her  favorite  in  male  attire,  and  many  a  playful 
caress,  she  arrived  at  the  door  of  her  chamber. 

But  the  marquis  could  go  no  farther.  He  had  hitherto  been 
spared  the  embarrassment  of  passing  this  sacred  threshold,  for 
the  passee  empress  had  secrets  of  toilet  for  the  embellishment  of 
her  person,  which  she  trusted,  only  to  the  eyes  of  an  antiquated 
attendant.  La  Chetardie  had  never  passed  beyond  the  boudoir 
which  was  between  the  antechamber  and  the  bed-room,  and  the 
time  had  come  for  the  disclosure  of  his  secret.  He  fell  on  his 
knees  and  announced  himself  a  man  ! 

Fortunately  they  were  alone.  Incredulous  at  first,  the  em 
press  listened  to  his  asseverations,  however,  with  more  amusement 
than  displeasure,  and  the  immediate  delivery  of  the  despatches, 
with  the  commendations  of  the  disguised  ambassador  by  his  royal 
master  to  the  forgiveness  and  kindness  of  the  empress,  amply 
secured  his  pardon.  But  it  was  on  condition  that  he  should 
resume  his  disguise  and  remain  in  her  service. 

Alone  in  his  tower  (for  Nadege  had  disappeared,  and  he  knew 
enough  of  the  cruelty  of  Elizabeth  to  dread  the  consequences  to 
the  poor  girl  of  venturing  on  direct  inquiries  as  to  her  fate),  La 
Chetardie  after  a  few  weeks  fell  ill ;  and  fortunate,  even  at  this 
price,  to  escape  from  the  silken  fetters  of  the  enamored  tzarine, 
he  departed  under  the  care  of  the  imperial  physician,  for  the 
more  genial  climate  of  France — not  without  reiterated  promises 
of  return,  however,  and  offers,  in  that  event,  of  unlimited  wealth 
and  advancement. 

But,  as  the  marquis  made  his  way  slowly  toward  Viencaj  a 
gleam  of  light  dawned  on  his  sadness.  The  Princess  Sophia 
Charlotte  was  newly  affianced  to  George  the  Third  of  England, 


132  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

and  this  daughter  of  the  house  of  Mecklcnberg  had  been  the 
playmate  of  Nadege  Stein  from  infancy  till  the  time  when 
Nadege  was  sent  to  the  tzarine  by  the  Duchess  of  Mecklenberg. 
Making  a  confident  of  the  kind  physician  who  accompanied  him, 
La  Chetardie  was  confirmed,  by  the  good  man's  better  experience 
and  knowledge,  in  the  belief  that  Nadege  had  shared  the  same 
fate  of  every  female  of  the  court  who  had  ever  awakened  the 
jealousy  of  the  empress.  She  was  doubtless  exiled  to  Siberia ; 
but,  as  she  had  committed  no  voluntary  fault,  it  was  probably 
without  other  punishment ;  and,  with  a  playmate  on  the  throne  of 
England,  she  might  be  demanded  and  recovered  ere  long,  in  all 
her  freshness  and  beauty.  Yet  the  recent  fate  of  the  fair 
Emloxie  Lapoukin,  who,  for  an  offence  but  little  more  distasteful 
to  the  tzarine,  had  been  pierced  through  the  tongue  with  hot  iron, 
whipped  with  the  knout,  and  exiled  for  life  to  Siberia,  hung  like 
a  cloud  of  evil  augury  over  his  mind. 

The  marquis  suddenly  determined  that  he  would  see  the 
affianced  princess,  and  plead  with  her  for  her  friend,  before  the 
splendors  of  a  thrcme  should  make  her  inaccessible.  The  excite 
ment  of  this  hope  had  given  him  new  life,  and  he  easily  persuaded 
his  attendant,  as  they  entered  the  gates  of  Vienna,  that  he 
required  his  attendance  no  farther.  Alone,  with  his  own  servants, 
he  resumed  his  female  attire,  and  directed  his  course  to  Meckleu- 
berg-Strelitz. 

The  princess  had  maintained  an  intimate  correspondence  with 
her  playmate  up  to  the  time  of  her  betrothal,  and  the  name  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Beaumont  was  passport  enough.  La  Chetardie 
had  sent  forward  his  servant,  on  arriving  at  the  town,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  ducal  residence,  and  the  reply  to  his  missive 
was  brought  back  by  one  of  the  ofiicers  in  attendance,  with  orders 


THE  MARQUIS  IN  PETTICOATS.  133 


to  conduct  the  demoiselle  to  apartments  in  the  castle.  He  was 
received  with  all  honor  at  the  palace-gate  by  a  chamberlain  in 
waiting,  who  led  the  way  to  a  suite  of  rooms  adjoining  those  of 
the  princess,  where,  after  being  left  alone  for  a  few  minutes,  he 
was  familiarly  visited  by  the  betrothed  girl,  and  overwhelmed,  as 
formerly  by  her  friend,  with  most  embarrassing  caresses.  In  the 
next  moment,  however,  the  door  was  hastily  flung  open,  and 
Nadege,  like  a  stream  of  light,  fled  through  the  room,  hung  upon 
the  neck  of  the  speechless  and  overjoyed  marquis,  and  ended 
with  convulsions  of  mingled  tears  and  laughter.  The  moment 
that  he  could  disengage  himself  from  her  arms,  La  Chetardie 
requested  to  be  left  for  a  moment  alone.  He  felt  the  danger  and 
impropriety  of  longer  maintaining  his  disguise.  He  closed  his 
door  on  the  unwilling  .demoiselles,  hastily  changed  his  dress,  and, 
with  his  sword  at  his  side,  entered  the  adjoining  reception-room 
of  the  princess,  where  Mademoiselle  de  Beaumont  was  impa 
tiently  awaited. 

The  scene  which  followed,  the  mingled  confusion  and  joy  of 
Nadege,.  the  subsequent  hilarity  and  masquerading  at  the  castle, 
and  the  particulars  of  the  marriage  of  the  Marquis  de  la  Chetar 
die  to  his  fair  fellow  maid-of-honor,  must  be  left  to  the  reader's  • 
imagination.  We  have  room  only  to  explain  the  reappearance  of 
Nadege  at  Mecklenberg. 

Nadege  retired  to  her  turret  at  the  imperative  command  of  the 
empress,  sad  and  troubled ;  but  waited  wakefully  and  anxiously 
for  the  re-entrance  of  her  disguised  companion.  In  the  course 
of  an  hour,  however,  the  sound  of  a  sentinel's  musket,  set  down 
at  her  door,  informed  her  that  she  was  a  prisoner.  She  knew 
Elizabeth,  and  the  Duchess  of  Mecklenberg,  with  an  equal 
knowledge  of  the  tzarine's  character,  had  provided  her  with  a 


134  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


resource  against  the  imperial  cruelty,  should  she  have  occasion  to 
use  it.  She  crept  to  the  battlements  of  the  tower,  and  fastened 
a  handkerchief  to  the  side  looking  over  the  public  square. 

The  following  morning,  at  daylight,  Nadege  was  summoned  to 
prepare  for  a  journey,  and,  in  an  hour,  she  was  led  between 
soldiers  to  a  carriage  at  the  palace-gate,  and  departed  by  the 
northern  egress  of  the  city,  with  a  guard  of  three  mounted  Cos 
sacks.  In  two  hours  from  that  time,  the  carriage  was  overtaken, 
the  guard  overpowered,  and  the  horses'  heads  turned  in  the  direc 
tion  of  Moscow.  After  many  difficulties  and  dangers,  during 
which  she  found  herself  under  the  charge  of  a  Mecklenbergian 
officer  in  the  service  of  the  tzarine,  she  reached  Vienna  in  safety, 
and  was  immediately  concealed  by  her  friends  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  the  palace  at  Mecklenberg,  to  remain  hidden  till  inquiry 
should  be  over.  The  arrival  of  Mademoiselle  de  Beaumont,  for 
the  loss  of  whose  life  or  liberty  she  had  incessantly  wept  with 
dread  and  apprehension,  was  joyfully  communicated  to  her  by  her 
friends ;  and  so  the  reader  knows  some  of  the  passages  in  the 
early  life  of  the  far-famed  beauty  in  thfr-French  court  in  the  times 
of  Louis  XV. — the  Marchioness  de  la  Chetardie. 


TOM  FANE  AND  I, 

"  Common  as  light  is  love, 
And  its  familiar  voice  -wearies  not  ever." 

SHELLEY. 

TOM  FANE'S  four  Canadian  ponies  were  whizzing  his  light 
phaeton  through  the  sand  at  a  rate  that  would  have  put  spirits 
into  anything  but  a  lover  absent  from  his  mistress.  The  "  hea 
ven-kissing  "  pines  towered  on  every  side  like  the  thousand  and 
one  columns  of  the  Palseologi  at  Constantinople;  their  flat  and 
spreading  tops  shutting  out  the  light  of  heaven  almost  as  effec 
tually  as  the  world  of  mussulmans,  mosques,  kiosks,  bazars,  and 
Giaours,  sustained  on  those  innumerable  capitals,  darkens  the 
subterranean  wonder  of  Stamboul.  An  American  pine  forest  is 
as  like  a  temple,  and  a  sublime  one,  as  any  dream  that  ever  en 
tered  into  the  architectural  brain  of  the  slumbering  Martin.  Tho 
Yankee  methpdists  in  their  camp-meetings,  have  but  followed  an 
irresistible  instinct  to  worship  God  in  the  religious  dimness  of 
these  interminable  aisles  of  the  wilderness. 

Tom  Fane  and  I  had  stoned  the  storks  together  in  the  palace 
of  Croesus  at  Sardis.  We  had  read  Anastasius  on  a  mufti's  tomb 
in  the  Nekropolis  of  Scutari.  We  had  burned  with  fig-fevers  in 
the  same  caravanserai  at  Smyrna.  We  had  cooled  our  hot  fore- 


136  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


heads  and  cursed  the  Greeks  in  emulous  Romaic  in  the  dim  tomb 
of  Agamemnon  at  Argos.  We  had  been  grave  at  Paris,  aud 
naerry  at  Rome ;  and  we  had  pic-nic'd  with  the  beauties  of  the 
Fanar  in  the  Valley  of  Sweet  Waters  in  pleasant  Roumelia ;  and 
when,  after  parting  in  France,  he  had  returned  to  England  and 
his  regiment,  and  I  to  New  England  and  law,  whom  should  I 
meet  in  a  summer's  trip  to  the  St.  Lawrence  but  Captain  Tom 

Fane  of  the th,  quartered  at  the  cliff-perched  and  doughty 

garrison  of  Quebec,  and  ready  for  any  "lark"  that  would  vary 
the  monotony  of  duty  ! 

Having  eaten  seven  mess-dinners,  driven  to  the  falls  of  Mont- 
morenci,  and  paid  my  respects  to  Lord  Dalhousie,  the  hospitable 
and  able  governor  of  the  Canadas,  Quebec  had  no  longer  a  temp 
tation  :  and  obeying  a  magnet,  of  which  more  anon,  I  announced 
to  Fane  that  my  traps  were  packed,  and  my  heart  sent  on,  a 
f-avant  courier,  to  Saratoga. 

"  Is  she  pretty  ?"  said  Tom. 

"  As  the  starry-eyed  Circassian  we  gazed  at  through  the  grill 
in  the  slave-market  at  Constantinople  !" — (Heaven  and  my  mis 
tress  forgive  me  for  the  comparison  ! — but  it  conveyed  more  to 
Tom  Fane  than  a  folio  of  more  respectful  similitudes.) 

"  Have  you  any  objection  to  be  drawn  to  your  lady-love  by 
four  cattle  that  would  buy  the  soul  of  Osbaldiston  ?'J 

"  '  Objection  !'  quotha  ?" 

The  next  morning,  four  double-jointed  and  well-groomed  ponies 
were  munching  their  corn  in  the  bow  of  a  steamer,  upon  the  St. 
Lawrence,  wondering  possibly  what,  in  the  name  of  Bucephalus, 
had  set  the  hills  and  churches  flying  at  such  a  rate  down  the  river. 
The  hills  and  churches  came  to  a  stand-still  with  the  steamer 
opposite  Montreal,  and  the  ponies  were  landed  and  put  to  their 


TOM  FANE  AND  I.  13t 


mettle  for  some  twenty  niilos,  where  they  were  destined  to  be  as 
tonished  by  a  similar  flying  phenomenon  in  the  mountains  girding 
the  lengthening  waters  of  Lake  Champlain.  Landed  at  Ticon- 
deroga,  a  few  miles'  trot  brought  them  to  Lake  George  and  a 
third  steamer,  and,  with  a  winding  passage  among  green  islands 
and  overhanging  precipices,  loaded  like  a  harvest-wagon  with 
vegetation,  we- made  our  last  landing  on  the  edge  of  the  pine  for 
est,  where  our  story  opens. 

"Well,  I  must  object,"  says  Tom,  setting  his  whip  in  the 
socket,  and  edging  round  upon  his  driving-box,  "  I  must  object 
to  this  republican  gravity  of  yours.  I  should  take  it  for  melan 
choly,  did  I  not  know  it  was  the  '  complexion  '  of  your  never- 
smiling  countrymen." 

"  Spare  me,  Tom  !  '  I  see  a  hand  you  cannot  see.'  Talk  to 
your  ponies,  and  let  me  be  miserable,  if  you  love  me." 

"  For  what,  in  the  name  of  common  sense  ?  Are  you  not 
within  five  hours  of  your  mistress  ?  Is  not  this  cursed  sand  your 
natal  soil  ?  Do  not 

'  The  pine-boughs  sing 
Old  songs  with  new  gladness?' 

and  in  the  years  that  we  have  dangled  about,  '  here-and-there- 
ians '  together,  were  you  ever  before  grave,  sad,  or  sulky  ?  and 
will  you  without  a  precedent,  and  you  a  lawyer,  inflict  your  stu 
pidity  upon  me  for  the  first  time  in  this  waste  and  being-less 
solitude  ?  Half  an  hour  more  of  the  dread  silence  of  this  forest, 
and  it  will  not  need  the  hora  of  Astolpho  to  set  me  irremediably 
mad  !" 

"  If  employment  will  save  your  wits,  you  may  invent  a  scheme 
for  marrying  the  son  of  a  poor  gentleman  to  the  ward  of  a  rich 
trader  in  rice  and  molasses." 


138  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

"  The  programme  of  our  approaching  campaign,  I  presume  ?" 

'«  Simply." 

"  Is  the  lady  willing  ?" 

"  I  would  fain  believe  so." 

"  Is  Mr.  Popkins  unwilling  ?" 

"  As  the  most  romantic  lover  could  desire." 

"  And  the  state  of  the  campaign  ?" 

"  Why,  thus  :  Mr.  George  Washington  Jefferson  Frump,  whom 
you  have  irreverently  called  Mr.  Popkins,  is  sole  guardian  to  the 
daughter  of  a  dead  West  Indian  plginttr,  of  whom  he  was  once  the 
agent.  I  fell  in  love  with  Kate  llpsqjer  from  description,  when 
she  was  at  school  with  my  sister,  saw  her  by  favor  of  a  garden- 
wall,  and  after  the  usual  vows — " 

"  Too  romantic  for  a  Yankee,  by  half !" 

"  — Proposed  by  letter  to  Mr.  Frump." 

"  Oh,  bathos  !" 

"  He  refused  me." 

"  Because " 

"  Imprimis,  I  was  not  myself  in  the  '  sugar  line,'  and  in  secun- 
dis,  my  father  wore  gloves  and  '  did  nothing  for  a  living  ' — two 
blots  in  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Frump,  which  all  the  waters  of  Niagara 
would  never  wash  from  my  escutcheon." 

"  And  what  the  devil  hindered  you  from  running  off  with  her  ?" 

"  Fifty  shares  in  the  Manhattan  Insurance  Company,  a  gold 
mine  in  Florida,  Heaven  knows  how  many  hogsheads  of  treacle, 
and  a  million  of  acres  on  the  banks  ojf  the  Missouri." 

"  '  Pluto's  flame-colored  daughter  '  defend  us  !  what  a  living 
El  Dorado !" 

"  All  of  which  she  forfeits  if  she  marries  without  old  Frump's 
consent." 


TOM  FANE  AND  I.  139 


« I  see — I  gee  !  And  this  lo  and  her  Argus  are  now  drinking 
the  waters  at  Saratoga  ?" 

"  Even  so." 

"  I'll  bet  you  my  four-in-hand  to  a  sonnet,  that  I  get  her  for 
you  before  the  season  is  over." 

"  Money  and  all  ?" 

"  Mines,  molasses,  and  Missouri  acres  !" 

"  And  if  you  do,  Tom,  I'll  give  you  a  team  of  Virginian  bloods 
that  would  astonish  Ascot,  and  throw  you  into  the  bargain  a  for 
giveness  for  riding  over  me  Jflfcyour  camel  on  the  banks  of  the 

"  Santa  Maria !  do  you  remember  that  spongy  foot  stepping 
over  your  frontispiece  ?  I  had  already  cast  my  eyes  up  to  Mont 
Sypilus  to  choose  a  clean  niche  for  you  out  of  the  rock-hewn 
tombs  of  the  kings  of  Lydia.  I  'thought  you  would  sleep  with 
Alyattis,  Phil  !" 

We  dashed  on  through  dark  forest  and  open  clearing,  through 
glens  of  tangled  cedar  and  wild  vine,  over  log  bridges,  corduroy 
marshes,  and  sand-hills,  till,  toward  evening,  a  scattering  shanty 
or  two,  and  an  occasional  sound  of  a  woodman's  axe,  betokened 
our  vicinity  to  Saratoga.  A  turn  around  a  clump  of  tall  pines 
brought  us  immediately  into  the  broad  street  of  the  village,  and 
the  flaunting  shops,  the  overgrown,  unsightly  hotels,  riddled  with 
windows  like  honey  combs,  the  fashionable  idlers  out  for  their 
evening  lounge  to  the  waters,  the  indolent  smokers  on  the  colon 
nades,  .and  the  dusty  and  loaded  coaches  driving  from  door  to 
door  in  search  of  lodgings,  formed  the  usual  evening  picture  of 
the  Bath  of  America. 

.  As  it  was  necessary  to  Tom's  plan  that  my  arrival  at  Saratoga 
should  not  be  known,  he  pulled  up  at  a  small  tavern  at  the  en- 


140  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

trance  of  the  street,  and  dropping  me  and  my  baggage,  drove  on 
to  Congress  Hall,  with  my  best  prayers,  and  a  letter  of  introduc 
tion  to  my  sister,  whom  I  had  left  on  her  way  to  the  Springs  with 
a  party  at  my  departure  for  Montreal.     Unwilling  to  remain  in 
Fiich  a  tantalizing  vicinity,  I  hired  a  chaise  the  next  morning,  and 
despatching  a  note  to  Tom,  drove  to  seek  a  retreat  at  Barhydt's 
— a  spot  that  cannot  well  be  described  in  the  tail  of  a  paragraph. 
Herr  Barhydt  is  an  old  Dutch  settler,  who,  till  the   mineral 
springs  of  Saratoga  were  discovered  some  five   miles  from   his 
door,  was  buried  in  the  depth  of  a  forest  solitude,  unknown  to  all 
but  the  prowling  Indian.     The  sky  is  supported  above  him  (or 
looks  to  be)  by  a  wilderness  of  straight,  columnar  pine  shafts, 
gigantic  in  girth,  and  with  no  foliage  except  at  the  top,  whore 
they  branch  out  like  round  tables  spread  for  a  banquet  in  the 
clouds.     A  small  ear -shaped  la'ke,  sunk  as  deep  into  the  earth  as 
the  firs  shoot  above  it,  black  as  Erebus  in  the  dim  shadow  of  its 
hilly  shore  and  the  obstructed  light  of  the  trees  that  nearly  meet 
over  it,  and  clear  and  unbroken  as  a  mirror,  save  the  pearl-spots 
of  the  thousand  lotuses  holding  up  their  cups  to  the  blue  eye  of 
heaven  that  peers  through  -the  leafy  vault,  sleeps  beneath   his 
window ;  and  around  him,  in  the  forest,  lies,  still  unbroken,  the 
elastic  and  brown  carpet  of  the  faded  pine  tassels,  deposited   in 
yearly  layers  since  the  continent  rose  from  the  flood,  and  rooted  a 
foot  beneath  the  surface  to   a  rich  mould  that  would  fatten  the 
Syniplf glades   to   a  flower-garden.     With    his  black  tarn  well 
stocked  with  trout,  his  bit  of  a  farm  in  the  clearing  near  by,  and 
an  old  Dutch  bible,  Herr  Barhydt  lived  a  life  of  Dutch  musing, 
talked  Dutch  to  his  geese  and  chicken^,  sung  Dutch  psalms  to  tho 
echoes  of  the  mighty  forest,  and,  except  on  his  far-between  visits 
to  Albany,  which  grew  rarer  and  rarer  as  the  old  Dutch  inhabit- 


TOM  FANE  AND  I.  141 

ants  dropped  faster  away,  saw  never  a  white  human  face  from  one 
maple-blossoming  to  another. 

A  roving  mineralogist  tasted  the  waters  of  Saratoga,  and,  like 
the  work  of  a  lath-and-plaster  Aladdin,  up  sprung  a  thriving  vil 
lage  around  the  fountain's  lip,  and  hotels,  tin  tumblers,  and 
apothecaries,  multiplied  in  the  usual  proportion  to  each  other, 
but  out  of  all  precedent,  with  everything  else  for  rapidity. 
Libraries,  newspapers,  churches,  livery  stables,  and  lawyers,  fol 
lowed  in  their  train  ;  and  it  was  soon  established,  from  the  plains 
of  Abraham  to  the  savannahs  of  Alabama,  that  no  person  of 
fashionable  taste  or  broken  constitution  could  exist  through  the 
months  of  July  and  August  without  a  visit  to  the  chalybeate 
springs  and  populous  village  of  Saratoga.  It  contained  seven 
thousand  inhabitants  before  Herr  Barhydt,  living  in  his  wooded 
seclusion  only  five  miles  off,  became  aware  of  its  existence.  A 
pair  of  lovers,  philandering  about  the  forest  on  horseback,  popped 
in  upon  him  one  June  morning,  and  thenceforth  there  was  no  rest 
for  the  soul  of  the  Dutchman.  Everybody  rode  down  to  eat  his 
trout  and  make  love  in  the  dark  shades  of  his  mirrored  lagoon  ; 
and  at  last,  in  self-defence,  he  added  a  room  or  two  to  his  shanty, 
enclosed  bis  cabbage-garden,  and  put  a  price  upon  his  trout-din 
ners.  The  traveller  now-a-days  who  has  not  dined  at  Barhydt's 
with  his  own  champagne  cold  from  the  tarn,  and  the  white-headed 
old  settler  "  gargling"  Dutch  about  the  house,  in  his  manifold 
vocation  of  cook, -ostler,  and  waiter,  may  as  well  not  have  seen 
Niagara. 

Installed  in  the  back-chamber  of  the  old  man's  last  addition  to 
his  house,  with  Barry  Cornwall  and  Elia  (old  fellow-travellers  of 
mine),  a  rude  chair,  a  ruder,  but  clean  bed,  and  a  troop  of 
thoughts  so  perpetually  from  home,  that  it  mattered .  very  little 


142  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


what  was  the  complexion  of  anything  about  me,  I  waited  Tom's 
operations  with  a  lover's  usual  patience.  Barhydt's  visitors  sel 
dom  arrived  before  two  or  three  o'clock,  and  the  long,  soft  morn 
ings,  quiet  as  a  shadowy  Elysium  on  the  rim  of  that  ebon  lake, 
were  as  solitary  as  a  melancholy  man  could  desire.  Didst  thou  but 
know,  oh  !  gentle  Barry  Cornwall !  how  gratefully  thou  hast  been 
road  and  mused  upon  in  those  dim  and  whispering  aisles  of  the 
forest,  three  thousand  and  more  miles  from  thy  smoky  whereabout, 
melhinks  it  would  warm  up  the  flush  of  pleasure  around  thine 
eyelids,  though  the  "  golden-tressed  Adelaide  !"  were  waiting  her 
good-night  kisses  at  thy  knee  ! 

I  could  stand  it  no  longer.  On  the  second  evening  of  my 
seclusion,  I  made  bold  to  borrow  old  Barhydt's  superannuated 
roadster,  and  getting  up  the  steam  with  infinite  difficulty  in  his 
ricketty  engine,  higgled  away,  with  a  pace  to  which  I  could  not 
venture  to  affix  a  name,  to  the  gay  scenes  of  Saratoga. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  I  dismounted  at  the  stable  in  Congress 
Hall,  and  giving  der  Teufcl,  as  the  old  man  ambitiously  styled  his 
steed,  to  the  hands  of  the  ostler,  stole  round  through  the  garden 
to  the  eastern  colonnade. 

I  feel  called  upon  to  describe  "  Congress  Hall."  Some  four 
teen  or  fifteen  millions  of  white  gentlemen  and  ladies  consider 
that  wooden  and  windowed  Babylon  as  the  proper  palace  of 
Delight — a  sojourn  to  be  sighed  for,  and  sacrificed  for,  and  econ 
omized  for — the  birthplace  of  Love,  the  haunt  of  Hymen,  the 
arena  of  Fashion — a  place  without  which'  a  new  lease  of  life  were 
valueless — for  which,  if  the  conjuring  cap  of  King  Erricus  itself 
could  not  furnish  a  season  ticket,  it  might  lie  on  a  lady's  toilet  as 
Unnoticed  as  a  bride's  night-cap  a  twelvemonth  after  marriage. 
I  say  to  myself,  sometimes,  as  I  pass  the  window  at  White's,  and 


TOM  FANE  AND  I.  143 


see  a. world-sick  worlding  with  the  curl  of  satiety  and  disgust  on 
his  lip,  wondering  how  the  next  hour  will  come  to  its  death,  "  If 
you  but  knew,  my  friend,  what  a  campaign  of  pleasure  you  are 
losing  in  America — what  belles  than  the  bluebell  slighter  and 
fairer — what  hearts  than  the  dewdrops  fresher  and  clearer  are  liv 
ing  their  pretty  hour,  like  gems  undived  for  in  the  ocean — what 
loads  of  foliage,  what  Titans  of  trees,  what  glorious  wildernesses 
of  rocks  and  waters,  are  lavishing  their  splendors  on  the  clouds 
that  sail  over  them,  and  all  within  the  magic  circle  of  which  Con 
gress  Hall  is  the  centre,  and  which  a  circling  dove  would  measure 
to  get  an  appetite  for  his  breakfast — if  you  but  knew  this,  my 
lord,  as  I  know  it,  you  would  not  be  gazing  so  vacantly  on  the 
steps  of  Crockford's,  nor  consider  '  the  graybeard'  such-a  laggard 
in  his  hours  !" 

Congress  Hall  is  a  wooden  building,  of  which  the  size  and 
capacity  could  never  be  definitely  ascertained.  It  is  built  on  a 
slight  elevation,  just  above  the  strongly-impregnated  spring 
whose  name  it  bears,  with  little  attempt  at  architecture,  save  a 
spacious  and  vine-covered  colonnade,  serving  as  a  promenade  on 
either  side,  and  two  wings,  the  extremities  of  which  are  lost  in 
the  distance.  A  relic  or  two  of  the  still-astonished  forest  towers 
above  the  chimneys,  in  the  shape  of  a  melancholy  group  of  firs ; 
and,  five  minutes'  walk  from  the  door,  the  dim  old  wilderness 
stands  looking  down  on  the  village  in  its  primeval  grandeur,  like 
the  spirits  of  the  wronged  Indians,  whose  tracks  are  scarce  van 
ished  from  the  sand.  In  the  strength  of  the  summer  solstice, 
from  five  hundred  to  a  thousand  people  dine  together  at  Congress 
Hall,  and  after  absorbing  as  many  bottles  of  the  best  wines  of 
the  world,  a  sunset  promenade  plays  the  valve  to  the  sentiment 
thus  generated,  and,  with  a  cup  of  tea,  the  crowd  separates  to 


144  FUN   JOTTINGS. 


dress  for  the  nightly  ball.  There  are  several  other  hotels  in  the 
village,  equally  crowded  and  equally  spacious,  and  the  ball  is 
given  alternately  at  each.  Congress  Hall  is  the  "  crack"  place, 
however,  and  I  expect  that  Mr.  Westcott,  the  obliging  proprietor, 
will  give  me  the  preference  of  rooms,  on  my  next  annual  visit,  for 
this  just  and  honorable  mention. 

The  dinner-tables  were  piled  into  an  orchestra,  and  draped 
with  green  baize  and  green  wreaths,  the  floor  of  the  immense  hall 
was  chalked  with  American  flags  and  the  initials  of  all  the  heroes 
of  the  Revolution,  and  the  band  were  playing  a  waltz  in  a  style 
that  made  the  candles  quiver,  and  the  pines  tremble  audibly  in 
their  tassels.  The  ball-room  was  on  the  ground  floor,  and  the  col 
onnade  upon  the  garden  side  was  crowded  with  spectators,  a  row 
of  grinning  black  fellows  edging  the  cluster  of  Leads  at  every 
window,  and  keeping  time  with  their  hands  and  feet  in  the  irre 
sistible  sympathy  of  their  music-loving  natures.  Drawing  my 
hat  over  my  eyes,  I  stood  at  the  least-thronged  window,  and  con 
cealing  ray  face  in  the  curtain,  waited  impatiently  for  the  appear 
ance  of  the  dancers. 

The  bevy  in  the  drawing-room  was  sufficiently  strong  at  last, 
and  the  lady  patronesses,  handed  in  by  a  state  governor  or  two, 
and  here  and  there  a  member  of  congress,  achieved  the  entre  with 
their  usual  intrepidity.  Followed  beaux  and  followed  belles. 
Such  belles  !  Slight,  delicate,  fragile-Jbaoking  creatures,  elegant 
as  lletzsch's  angels,  warm-eyed  as  Mohammedan  houries,  yet 
timid  as  the  antelope  whose  hazel  orbs  they  eclipse,  limbed  like 
nothing  earthly  except  an  American  woman — I  would  rather  not 
go  on  !  When  I  speak  of  the  beauty  of  my  countrywomen,  my 
heart  swells.  I  do  believe  the  New  World  has  a  newer  mould  for 
its  mothers  and  daughters.  I  think  I  am  not  prejudiced.  I  have 


TOM  FANE  AND  I.  145 


been  years  away.  I  have  sighed  in  France ;  I  have  loved  in 
Italy  ;  I  have  bargained  for  Circassians  in  an  eastern  bezestein, 
and  I  have  lounged  at  Howell  and  James's  on  a  sunny  day  in  the 
season  ;  and  my  eye  is  trained,  and  my  perceptions  quickened : 
but  I  do  think  (honor  bright !  and  Heath's  "  Book  of  Beauty" 
forgiving  me)  that  there  is  no  such  beautiful  work  of  God  under 
the  arch  of  the  sky  as  an  American  girl  in  her  bellehood. 

Enter  Tom  Fane  in  a  Stultz  coat  and  Sparding  tights,  looking 
as  a  man  who  had  been  the  mirror  of  Bond  street  might  be  sup 
posed  to  look,  a  thousand  leagues  from  his  club-house.  She 
leaned  on  his  arm.  I  had  never  seen  her  half  so  lovely.  Fresh 
and  calm  from  the  seclusion  of  her  chamber,  her  transparent 
cheek  was  just  tinged  with  the  first  mounting  blood,  from  the 
excitement  of  lights  and  music.  Her  lips  were  slightly  parted, 
her  fine-lined  eyebrows  were  arched  with  a  girlish  surprise,  and 
her  ungloved  arm  lay  carelessly  and  confidingly  within  his,  as 
white,  round,  and  slender,  as  if  Canova  had  wrought  it  in  Parian 
for  his  Psyche.  If  you  have  never  seen  a  beauty  of  northern 
blood  nurtured  in  a  southern  clime,  the  cold  fairness  of  her  race 
warmed  up  as  if  it  had  been  steeped  in  some  golden  sunset,  and 
her  deep  blue  eye  darkened  and  filled  with  a  fire  as  unnaturally 
resplendent  as  the  fusion  of  crysoprase  into  a  diamond,  and  if  you 
have  never  known  the  corresponding  contrast  in  the  character, 
the  intelligence  and  constancy  of  the  north  kindling  with  the 
enthusiasm  and  impulse,  the  passionateness  and  the  abaiidon  of 
a  more  burning  latitude — you  have  seen  nothing,  let  me  insinu 
ate,  though  you  "  have  been  i'  the  Indies  twice,"  that  could  give 
you  an  idea  of  Kate  Lorimer. 

She  waltzed,  and  then  Tom  dauced  with  my  sister,  and  then, 

resigning  her  to  another  partner,  he  offered  his  arm  again  to  Miss 

7 


146  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


Lorimer,  and  left  the  ball  room  with  several  other  couples  for  a 
turn  in  the  fresh  air  of  the  colonnade.  I  was  not  jealous,  but  I 
felt  unpleasantly  at  his  returning  to  her  so  immediately.  He 
was  the  handsomest  man,  out  of  all  comparison,  in  the  room,  and 
he  had  dimmed  my  star  too  often  in  our  rambles  in  Europe  and 
Asia,  not  to  suggest  a  thought,  at  least,  that  the  same  pleasant 
eclipse  might  occur  in  our  American  astronomy.  I  stepped  off 
the  colonnade,  and  took  a  turn  in  the  garden. 

Those  "  children  of  eternity,"  as  Walter  Savage  Landor  poet 
ically  calls"  the  breezes,"  performed  their  soothing  ministry  upon- 
my  temples,  and  I  replaced  Tom  in  my  confidence  with  an  heroic 
effort,  and  turned  back.  A  swing  hung  between  two  gigantic 
pines,  just  under  the  balustrade,  and  flinging  myself  into  the 
cushioned  seat,  I  abandoned  myself  to  the  musings  natural  to  a 
person  "  in  my  situation."  The  sentimentalizing  promenaders 
lounged  backward  and  forward  above  me,  and  not  hearing  Tom's 
drawl  among  them,  I  presumed  he  had  returned  to  the  ball-room. 
A  lady  and  gentleman,  walking  in  silence,  stopped  presently,  and 
leaned  upon  the  railing  opposite  the  swing.  They  stood  a  mo 
ment,  looking  into  the  dim  shadow  of  the  pine-grove,  and  then  a 
voice,  that  I  knew  better  than  my  own,  remarked  in  a  low  and 
silvery  tone  upon  the  beauty  of  the  night. 

She  was  not  answered,  and  after  a  moment's  pause,  as  if 
resuming  a  conversation  that  had  been  interrupted,  she  turned 
very  earnestly  to  her  companion,  and  asked,  "  Are  you  sure, 
quite  sure,  that  you  could  venture  to  marry  without  a  fortune  ?" 

"  Quite,  dear  Miss  Lorimer  !" 

I  started  from  the  swing,  but  before  the  words  of  execration 
that  rushed  choking  from  my  heart  could  struggle  to  my  lips, 
they  had  mingled  with  the  crowd  and  vanished. 


TOM  FANE  AND  I.  14f 

I  strode  down  the  garden-walk  in  a  phrensy  of  passion. 
Should  I  call  him  immediately  to  account  ?  Should  I  rush  into 
the  ball-room  and  accuse  him  of  his  treachery  to  her  face  ? 
Should  I  drown  myself  in  old  Barhydt's  tarn,  or  join  an  Indian 
tribe,  and  make  war  upon  the  whites  ?  Or  should  I — could  I — 
be  magnanimous — and  write  him  a  note  immediately,  offering  to 
be  his  groomsman  at  the  wedding  ? 

I  stepped  into  the  punch-room,  asked  for  pen,  ink,  and  paper, 
and  indited  the  following  note  : — 

"  DEAR  TOM  :  If  your  approaching  nuptials  are  to  be  sufficient 
ly  public  to  admit  of  a  groomsman,  you  will  make  me  the  happi 
est  of  friends  by  selecting  me  for  that  office. 

"  Yours  ever  truly, 

"  PHIL." 

Having  despatched  it  to  his  room,  I  flew  to  the  stable,  roused 
der  Teufelj  who  had  gathered  up  his  legs  in  the  straw  for  the 
night,  flogged  him  furiously  out  of  the  village,  and  giving  him  tho 
rein  as  he  entered  the  forest,  enjoyed  the  scenery  in  the  humor 
of  mad  old  Hieronymo  in  the  Spanish  tragedy — "  the  moon 
dark,  the  stars  extinct,  the  winds  blowing,  the  owls  shrieking,  the 
toads  croaking,  the  minutes  jarring,  and  the  clock  striking 
twelve  !" 

E:u-ly  the  next  day  Tom's  "  tiger"  dismounted  at  Barhydt's 
door,  with  an  answer  to  my  note,  as  follows  : — 

"  DEAR  PHIL  :  The  devil  must  have  informed  you  of  a  secret 
I  supposed  safe  from  all  the  world.  Be  assured  I  should  have 
chosen  no  one  but  yourself  to  support  me  on  the  occasion ;  and 
however  you  have  discovered  my  design  upon  your  treasure,  a 


148  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


thousand  thanks  for  your  generous  consent.     I  expected  no  less 
from  your  noble  nature. 

"  Yours  devotedly, 

"  TOM. 

"  P.  S. — I  shall  endeavor  to  be  at  Barhydt's,  with  materials  for 
the  fifth  act  of  our  comedy,  to-morrow  morning." 

"  '  Comedy  !'  call  you  this,  Mr.  Fane  ?"  I  felt  my  heart  turn 
black  as  I  threw  down  the  letter.  After  a  thousand  plans  of 
revenge  formed  and  abandoned — borrowing  old  Barbydt's  rifles, 
loading  them  deliberately,  and  discharging  them  again  into  the 
air — I  flung  myself  exhausted  on  the  bed,  and  reasoned  myself 
back  to  my  magnanimity.  I  would  be  his  groomsman  ! 

It  was  a  morning  like  the  burst  of  a  millenium  on  the  world. 
I  felt  as  if  I  should  never  forgive  the  birds  for  their  mocking 
enjoyment  of  it.  The  wild  heron  swung  up  from  the  reeds,  the 
lotuses  shook  out  their  dew  into  the  lake  as  the  breeze  stirred 
them,  and  the  senseless  old  Dutchman  sat  fishing  in  his  canoe, 
singing  one  of  his  unintelligible  psalms  to  a  quick  measure  that 
half  maddened  me.  I  threw  myself  upon  the  yielding  floor  of 
pine-tassels  on  the  edge  of  the  lake,  and  with  the  wretched  school 
philosophy,  "  Si  gravis  est,  brevis  est,"  endeavored  to  put  down 
the  tempest  of  my  feelings. 

A  carriage  rattled  over  the  little  bridge,  mounted  the  ascent 
rapidly,  and  brought  up  at  Barhydt's  door. 

"  Phil !»  shouted  Tom,  "  Phil !" 

I  gulped  down  a  choking  sensation  in  my  throat,  and  rushed  up 
the  bank  to  him.  A  stranger  was  dismounting  from  his  horse. 

"  Quick  !"  said  Tom,  shaking  my  hand  hurriedly — "  there  is 
no  time  to  lose.  Out  with  your  inkhorn,  Mr.  Poppletree,  and 
have  your  papers  signed  while  I  tie  up  my  ponies." 


TOM  FANE  AND  I.  149 


"  What  is  this  sir  ?"  said  I,  starting  back  as  the  stranger 
deliberately  presented  me  with  a  paper,  in  which  my  own  name 
was  written  in  conspicuous  letters. 

The  magistrate  gazed  at  me  with  a  look  of  astonishment. 
"  A  contract  of  marriage,  I  think,  between  Mr.  Philip  Slingsby 
and  Miss  Katherine  Lorimer,  spinster.  Are  you  the  gentleman 
named  in  that  instrument,  sir  ?" 

At  this  moment  my  sister,  leading  the  blushing  girl  by  the 
hand,  came  and  threw  her  arms  about  my  neck,  and  drawing  her 
within  my  reach,  ran  off  and  left  us  together. 

There  are  some  pure  moments  in  this  life  that  description 
would  only  profane. 

We  were  married  by  the  village  magistrate  in  that  magnificent 
sanctuary  of  the  forest,  old  Barhydt  and  his  lotuses  the  only 
indifferent  witnesses  of  vows  as  passionate  as  ever  trembled  upon 
human  lips. 

I  had  scarce  pressed  her  to  my  heart  and  dashed  the  tears  from 
my  eyes,  when  Fane,  who  had  looked  more  at  my  sister  than  at 
the  bride  during  the  ceremony,  left  her  suddenly,  and  thrusting  a 
roll  of  parchment  into  my  pocket,  ran  off  to  bring  up  his  ponies. 
I  was  on  the  way  to  Saratoga,  a  married  man,  and  my  bride  on 
the  seat  beside  me,  before  I  had  recovered  from  my  astonishment. 

"  Pray,"  said  Tom,  "if  it  be  not  an  impertinent  question,  and 
you  can  find  breath  in  your  ecstacies,  how  did  you  find  out  that 
your  sister  had  done  me  the  honor  to  accept  the  offer  of  my 
hand  ?» 

The  resounding  woods  rung  with  his  unmerciful  laughter  at  the 
explanation. 

"  And  pray,"  said  I,  in  my  turn,  "  if  it  is  not  an  impertinent 
question,  and  you  can  find  a  spare  breath  in  your  ecstacies,  by 


150  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


what  magic  did  you  persuade  old  Frump  to  trust  bis  ward  and 
her  title-deeds  in  your  treacherous  keeping  ?" 

"  It  is  a  long  story,  my  dear  Phil,  and  I  will  give  you  the  par 
ticulars  when  you  pay  me  the  *  Virginia  bloods '  you  wot  of. 
Suffice  it  for  the  present,  that  Mr.  Frump  believes  Mr.  Tom 
Fane  (alias  Jacob  Phipps,  Esq.,  sleeping  partner  of  a  banking- 
house  at  Liverpool)  to  be  the  accepted  suitor  of  his  fair  ward. 
In  his  extreme  delight  at  seeing  her  in  so  fair  a  way  to  marry 
into  a  bank,  he  generously  made  her  a  present  of  her  own  fortune, 
signed  over  his  right  to  Control  it  by  a  document  in  your  posses 
sion,  and  will  undergo  as  agreeable  a  surprise  in  %bout  five  min 
utes  as  the  greatest  lover  of  excitement  could  desire." 

The  ponies  dashed  on.  The  sandy  ascent  by  the  Pavilion 
Spring  was  surmounted,  and  in  another  minute  we  were  at  the 
door  of  Congress  Hall.  The  last  stragglers  from  the  breakfast 
table  were  lounging  down  the  colonnade,  and  old  Frump  sat  read 
ing  the  newspaper  under  the  portico. 

"  Aha  !  Mr.  Phipps,"  said  he,  as  Tom  drove  up — "  back  so 
soon,  eh  ?  Why,  I  thought  you  and  Kitty  would  be  billing  it  till 
dinner-time  !" 

"  Sir  !"  said  Tom,  very  gravely,  "  you  have  the  honor  of  ad 
dressing  Captain  Thomas  Fane,  of  his  majesty's  — th  Fusilcers  ; 
and  whenever  you  have  a  moment's  leisure,  I  shall  be  happy  to 
submit  to  your  perusal  a  certificate  of  the  marriage  of  Miss 
Katherine  Lorimer  to  the  gentleman  I  have  the  pleasure  to  pre 
sent  to  you.  Mr.  Frump,  Mr.  Slingsby !" 

At  the  mention  of  my  name,  the  blood  in  Mr.  Frump's  ruddy 
complexion  turned  suddenly  to  the  color  of  the  Tiber.  Poetry 
alone  can  express  the  feeling  pictured  in  his  countenance : — 


TOM  FANE  AND  I. 


"  If  every  atom  of  a  dead  man's  flesh 
Should  creep,  each  one  with  a  particular  life, 
Yet  all  as  cold  as  ever — 'twas  just  so : 
Or  had  it  drizzled  needle-points  of  frost, 
Upon  a  feverish  head  made  suddenly  bald." 

George  Washington  Jefferson  Frump,  Esq.,  left  Congress  Hall 
the  same  evening,  and  has  since  ungraciously  refused  an  invitation 
to  Captain  Fane's  wedding — possibly  from  his  having  neglected  to 
invite  him  on  a  similar  occasion  at  Saratoga.  This  last,  how 
ever,  I  am  free  to  say,  is  a  gratuitous  supposition  of  my  own. 


THE  POET  AND  THE  MANDARIN, 

THE  moon  shone  like  glorified  and  floating  dew  on  the  bosom 
of  the  tranquil  Pei-ho,  and  the  heart  of  the  young  poet  Le-pih 
was  like  a  cup  running  over  with  wine.  It  was  no  abatement  of 
his  exulting  fulness  that  he  was  as  yet  the  sole  possessor  of  the 
secret  of  his  own  genius.  Conscious  of  exquisite  susceptibility  to 
beauty,  fragrance  and  music  (the  three  graces  of  the  Chinese), 
he  was  more  intent  upon  enjoying -his  gifts  than  upon  the  awak 
ening  of  envy  for  their  possession — the  latter  being  the  second 
leaf  in  the  book  of  genius,  and  only  turned  over  by  the  finger  of 
satiety.  Thoughtless  of  the  acquisition  of  fame  as  the  youthful 
poet  may  be,  however,  he  is  always  ready  to  anticipate  its  fruits, 
and  Le-pih  committed  but  the  poet's  error,  when,  having  the  gem  in 
his  bosom  which  could  buy  the  favor  of  the  world,  he  took  the 
favor  for  granted  without  producing  the  gem. 

Kwonfootse  had  returned  a  conqueror,  from  the  wars  with  the 
Hwong-kin,  and  this  night,  on  which  the  moon  shone  so  gloriously, 
was  the  hour  of  his  triumph,  for  the  Emperor  Tang  had  conde 
scended  to  honor  with  his  presence,  a  gala  gisfen  by  the  victori 
ous  general  at  his  gardens  on  the  Pei-ho.  Softened  by  his  exult 
ing  feelings  (for  though  a  brave  soldier,  he  was  as  haughty  as 


THE  POET  AND  THE  MANDARIN.  153 


Luykong  the  thunder-god,  or  Hwuyloo  the  monarch  of  fire),  the 
warlike  mandarin  threw  open  his  gardens  on  this  joyful  night,  not 
only  to  those  who  wore  in  their  caps  the  gold  ball  significant  of 
patrician  hirth,  but  to  all  whose  dress  and  mien  warranted  their 
appearance  in  the  presence  of  the  emperor. 

Like  the  realms  of  the  blest  shone  the  gardens  of  Kwonfootse. 
Occupying  the  whole  valley  of  the  Pei-ho,  at  a  spot  where  it 
curved  lite  the  twisted  cavity  of  a  shell,  the  sky  seemed  to  shut 
in  the  grounds  like  the  cover  of  a  vase,  and  the  stars  seemed  but 
the  garden-lights  overhead.  From  one  edge  of  the  vase  to  the 
other — from  hill-top  to  hill-top — extended  a  broad  avenue,  a  pa 
goda  at  either  extremity  glittering  with  gold  and  scarlet,  the  sides 
flaming  with  colored  lamps  and  flaunting  with  gay  streamers  of 
barbarian  stuffs,  and  the  moonlit  river  cutting  it  in  the  centre,  the 
whole  vista,  at  the  first  glance,  resembling  a  girdle  of  precious 
stones  with  a  fastening  of  opal.  Off  from  this  central  division 
radiated  in  all  directions  alleys  of  camphor  and  cinnamon  trees, 
lighted  with  amorous  dimness,  and  leading  away  to  bowers  upon 
the  hill-side,  and  from  every  quarter  resounded  music,  and  in 
every  nook  was  seen  feasting  and  merriment. 

In  disguise,  the  emperor  and  imperial  family  mingled  in  the 
crowd,  and  no  one  save  the  host  and  his  daughters  knew  what 
part  of  the  gardens  was  honored  with  their  presence.  There  was, 
however,  a  retreat  in  the  grounds,  sacred  to  the  privileged  few, 
and  here,  when  fatigued  or  desirous  of  refreshment,  the  royal 
personages  laid  aside  disguise  and  were  surrounded  with  the  defe 
rential  honors  of  the  court.  It  was  so  contrived  that  the  access 
was  unobserved  by  the  people,  and  there  was,  therefore,  no  feel 
ing  of  exclusion  to  qualify  the  hilarity  of  the  entertainment, 
Kwonfootse,  with  all  his  pride,  looking  carefully  to  his  popularity. 
7* 


154  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


At  the  foot  of  each  descent,  upon  the  matted  banks  of  the  river, 
floated  gilded  boats  with  lamps  burning  in  their  prows,  and  gayly- 
dressed  boatmen  offering  conveyance  across  to  all  who  required 
it ;  but  there  were  also,  unobserved  by  the  crowd,  boats  unlighted 
and  undecorated,  holding  off  from  the  shore,  which,  at  a  sign  given 
by  the  initiated,  silently  approached  a  marble  stair  without  the 
line  of  the  blazing  avenue,  and  taking  their  freight  on  board, 
swiftly  pulled  up  the  moonlit  river,  to  a  landing  concealed  by  the 
shoulder  of  the  hill.  No  path  led  from  the  gardens  hither,  and 
from  no  point  of  view  could  be  overlooked  the  more  brilliant 
scene  of  imperial  revel. 

It  was  verging  toward  midnight  when  the  unknown  poet,  with 
brain  floating  in  a  celestial  giddiness  of  delight,  stood  on  the 
brink  of  the  gleaming  river.  The  boats  plied  to  and  fro  with 
their  freights  of  fair  damsels  and  gayly-dressed  youths,  the  many- 
colored  lamps  throwing  a  rainbow  profusion  of  tints  on  the  water, 
and  many  a  voice  addressed  him  with  merry  invitation,  for  Le- 
pih's  beauty,  so  famous  now  in  history,  was  of  no  forbidding  state- 
liness,  and  his  motions,  like  his  countenance,  were  as  frankly  joy 
ous  as  the  gambols  of  a  young  leopard.  Not  inclined  to  boister 
ous  gayety  at  the  moment,  Le-pih  stepped  between  the  lamp- 
bearing  trees  of  the  avenue,  and  folding  his  arms  in  his  silken 
vest,  stood  gazing  in  revery  on  the  dancing  waters.  After  a  few 
moments,  one  of  the  dark  boats  on  which  he  had  unconsciously 
fixed  his  gaze  drew  silently  toward  him,  and  as  the  cushioned 
stern  was  brought  round  to  the  bank,  the  boatman  made  a  rever 
ence  to  his  knees  and  sat  waiting  the  poet's  pleasure. 

Like  all  men  born  to  good  fortune,  Le-pih  was  prompt  to  fol 
low  the  first  beckonings  of  adventure,  and  asking  no  questions,  he 
quietly  embarked,  and  with  a  quick  dip  of  the  oars  the  boat  shot 


THE  POET  AND  THE  MANDARIN.  155 


from  the  shore  and  took  the  descending  current.  Almost  in  the 
nest  instant  she  neared  again  to  the  curving  and  willow-fringed 
margin  of  the  stream,  and  lights  glimmered  through  the  branches, 
and  sweet,  low  music  became  audible,  and  by  rapid  degrees,  a 
scene  burst  on  his  eye,  which  the  first  glimpse  into  the  gate  of 
paradise  fa  subsequent  agreeable  surprise,  let  us  presume)  could 
scarcely  have  exceeded. 

Without  an  exchange  of  a  syllable  between  the  boatman  and 
his  freight,  the  stern  was  set  against  a  carpeted  stair  at  the  edge 
of  the  river,  and  Le-pih  disembarked  with  a  bound,  and  stood 
upon  a  spacious  area  lying  in  a  lap  of  the  hill,  the  entire  surface 
carpeted  smoothly  with  Persian  stuffs,  and  dotted  here  and  there 
with  striped  tents  pitched  with  poles  of  silver.  Garlands  of 
flowers  hung  in  festoons  against  the  brilliant-colored  cloths,  and 
in  the  centre  of  each  tent  stood  a  low  tablet  surrounded  with 
couches  and  laden  with  meats  and  wine.  The  guests,  for  whom 
this  portion  of  the  entertainment  was  provided,  were  apparently 
assembled  at  a  spot  farther  on,  from  which  proceeded  the  deli 
cious  music  heard  by  the  poet  in  approaching  ;  and,  first  enter 
ing  one  of  the  abandoned  tents  for  a  goblet  of  wine,  Le-pih 
followed  to  the  scene  of  attraction. 

Under  a  canopy  of  gold  cloth  held  by  six  bearers,  stood  the 
imperial  chair  upon  a  raised  platform — not  occupied,  however,  the 
august  Tang  reclining  more  at  his  ease,  a  little  out  of  the  circle, 
upon  cushions  canopied  by  the  moonlight.  Around  upon  the 
steps  of  the  platform  and  near  by,  were  grouped  the  noble  ladies 
of  the  court  and  the  royal  princesses  (Tang  living  much  in  the 
female  apartments  and  his  daughters  numbering  several  score), 
and  all,  at  the  moment  of  LepuVs  joining  the  assemblage,  turning 

\ 

to  observe  a  damsel  with  a  lute,  to  whose  performance  the  low 


156  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

sweet  music  of  the  band«had  been  a  prelude.  The  first  touch  of 
the  strings  betrayed  a  trembling  hand,  and  the  poet's  sympathies 
were  stirred,  though  from  her  beut  posture  and  her  distant  posi 
tion  he  had  not  yet  seen  the  features  of  the  player.  As  the  tremu 
lous  notes  grew  firmer,  and  the  lute  began  to  .give  out  a  flowing 
harmony,  Le-pih  approached,  and  at  the  same  time,  the  listening 
groups  of  ladies  began  to  whisper  and  move  away,  and  of  those 
who  remained,  none  seemed  to  listen  with  pleasure  except  Kwon- 
footse  and  the  emperor.  The  latter,  indeed,  rivalled  the  intrud 
ing  bard  in  his  interest,  rolling  over  upon  the  cushions  and  rest 
ing  on  the  other  imperial  elbow  in  close  attention. 

Gaining  confidence  evidently  from  the  neglect  of  her  auditory, 
or,  as  is  natural  to  women  less  afraid  of  the  judgment  of  the  other 
sex,  who  were  her  only  listeners,  the  fair  Taya  (the  youngest 
daughter  of  Kwonfootse),  now  joined  her  voice  to  her  instrument, 
and  sang  with  a  sweetness  that  dropped  like  a  plummet  to  the 
soul  of  Le-pih.  He  fell  to  his  knee  upon  a  heap  of  cushions  and 
leaned  eagerly  forward.  As  she  became  afterward  one  of  his 
most  passionate  themes,  we  are  enabled  to  reconjure  the  features 
that  were  presented  to  his  admiring  wonder.  The  envy  of  the 
princesses  was  sufficient  proof  that  Taya  was  of  rare  beauty  ;  she 
had  that  wonderful  perfection  of  feature  to  which  envy  pays  its 
bitterest  tribute,  which  is  apologized  for  if  not  found  in  the  poet's 
ideal,  which  we  thirst  after  in  pictures  and  marble,  of  which  love 
liness  and  expression  are  but  lesser  degrees — fainter  shadowings. 
She  was  adorably  beautiful.  The  outer  corners  of  her  long 
almond-shaped  eyes,  the  dipping  crescent  of  her  forehead,  the 
pencil  of  her  eyebrow  and  the  indented  corners  of  her  mouth — all 
these  turned  downward  ;  and  this  peculiarity  which,  in  faces  of  a 
less  elevated  character,  indicates  a  temper  morose  and  repulsive, 


THE  POET  AND  THE  MANDARIN.  157 


in  Taya's  expressed  the  very  soul  of  gentle  and  lofty  melancholy. 
There  was  something  infantine  about  her  mouth,  the  teeth  were 
so  smaU  and  regular,  and  their  dazzling  whiteness,  shining  be 
tween  lips  of  the  brilliant  color  of  a  cherry  freshly  torn  apart,  was 
in  startling  contrast  with  the  dark  lustre  of  her  eyes.  Le-pih's 
poetry  makes  constant  allusion  to  those  small  and  snowy  teeth, 
and  the  turned-down  corners  of  the  lips  and  eyes  of  his  incom 
parable  mistress. 

Taya's  song  was  a  fragment  of  that  celebrated  Chinese  romance 
from  which  Moore  has  borrowed  so  largely  in  his  loves  of  the 
angels,  and  it  chanced  to  be  particularly  appropriate  to  her  de 
serted  position  (she  was  alone  now  with  her  three  listeners),  dwelling 
as  it  did  upon  the  loneliness  of  a  disguised  Peri,  wandering  in 
exile  upon  earth.  The  lute  fell  from  her  hands  when  she  ceased, 
and  while  the  emperor  applauded,  and  Kwonfootse  looked  on  her 
with  paternal  pride,  Le-pih  modestly  advanced  to  the  fallen 
instrument,  and  with  a  low  obeisance  to  the-  emperor  and  a  hesi 
tating  apology  to  Taya,  struck  a  prelude  in  the  same  air,  and 
broke  forth  into  an  impulsive  expression  of  his  feelings  in  verse. 
It  would  be  quite  impossible  to  give  a  translation  of  this  famous 
effusion  with  its  oriental  load  of  imagery,  but  in  modifying  it  to 
the  spirit  of  our  language  (giving  little  more  than  its  thread  of 
thought,  the  reader  may  see  glimpses  of  the  material  from 
which  the  great  Irish  lyrist  spun  his  woof  of  sweet  fable.  Fixing 
his  keen  eyes  upon  the  bright  lips  just  closed,  Le-pih  sang : — 

When  first  from  heaven's  immortal  throngs 
The  earth-doomed  angels  downward  came, 

And  mourning  their  enraptured  songs, 
Walked  sadly  in  our  mortal  frame; 

To  those,  whose  lyres  of  loftier  string 


153  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


Had  taught  the  myriad  lips  of  heaven. 
The  song  that  they  forever  sing, 

A  wondrous  lyre,  'tis  said,  was  given. 
„  '  And  go,'  the  seraph  warder  said, 

As  from  the  diamond  gates  they  flew, 
1  And  wake  the  songs  ye  here  have  led 

In  earthly  numbers,  pure  and  new ! 
And  yours  shall  he  the  hallowed  power 

To  win  the  lost  to  heaven  cgain, 
And  when  earth's  clouds  shall  darkest  lower 

Your  lyre  shall  breathe  its  holiest  strain ! 
Yet,  chastened  by  this  inward  fire, 

Your  lot  shall  be  to  walk  alone, 
Save  when,  perchance,  with  echoing  lyre, 

You  touch  a  spirit  like  your  own  ; 
And  whatsoe'er  the  guise  you  wear, 

To  him,  'tis  given  to  know  you  there.'  " 

The  song  over,  Le-pih  sat  with  his  hands  folded  across  the 
instrument  and  his  eyes  cast  down,  and  Taya  gazed  on  him  with 
wondering  looks,  yet  slowly,  and  as  if  unconsciously,  she  took 
from  her  breast  a  rose,  and  with  a  half-stolen  glance  at  her  father, 
threw  it  upon  the  lute.  But  frowningly  Kwonfootso  rose  from 
his  seat  and  approached  the  poet. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  demanded  angrily,  as  the  bard  placed 
the  rose  reverently  in  his  bosom. 

"  Le-pih ! » 

With  another  obeisance  to  the  emperor,  and  a  deeper  one  to 
the  fair  Taya,  he  turned,  after  this  concise  answer,  upon  his  heel, 
lifting  his  cap  to  his  head,  which,  to  the  rage  of  Kwonfootse,  bore 
not  even  the  gold  ball  of  aristocracy. 

"  Bind  him  for  the  bastinado !  "  cried  the  infuriated  mandarin 
to  the  bearers  of  the  canopy. 


THE  POET  AND  THE  MANDARIN.  159 
\ 

The  six  soldiers  dropped  their  poles  to  the  ground,  but  the  em 
peror's  voice  arrested  them. 

"  He  shall  have  no  violence  but  from  you,  fair  Taya,"  said  the 
softened  monarch  ;  "  call  to  him  by  the  name  he  has  just  pro 
nounced,  for  I  would  hear  that  lute  again  ! " 

"  Le-pih !  Le-pih  !  "  cried  instantly  the  musical  voice  of  the 
fair  girl. 

The  poet  turned  and  listened,  incredulous  of  his  own  ears. 

"  Le-pih  !  Le-pih  !  "    she  repeated,  in  a  soft  tone. 

Half-hesitating,  half-bounding,  as  if  still  scarce  believing  he 
had  heard  aright,  Le-pih  flew  to  her  feet,  and  dropped  to  one 
knee  upon  the  cushion  before  her,  his  breast  heaving  and  his  eyes 
flashing  with  eager  wonder.  Taya's  courage  was  at  an  end,  and 
she  sat  with  her  eyes  upon  the  ground. 

"  Give  him  the  lute,  Kwonfootse  !  "  said  the  emperor,  swing 
ing  himself  on  the  raised  chair  with  an  abandonment  of  the  impe 
rial  avoirdupois,  which  set  ringing  violently  the  hundred  bells  sus 
pended  in  the  golden  fringes. 

"  Let  not  the  crow  venture  again  into  the  nest  of  the  eagle," 
muttered  the  mandarin  between  his  teeth  as  he  handed  the  instru 
ment  to  the  poet. 

The  sound  of  the  bells  brought  in  the  women  and  courtiers 
from  every  quarter  of  the  privileged  area,  and  preluding  upon 
the  strings  to  gather  his  scattered  senses,  while  they  were  seat 
ing  themselves  around  him,  Le-pih  at  last  fixed  his  gaze  upon  the 
lips  of  Taya,  and  commenced  his  song  to '  an  irregular  harmony 
well  adapted  to  extempore  verse.  We  have  tried  in  vain  to  put 
this  celebrated  song  of  compliment  into  English  stanzas.  It  com 
menced  with  a  description  of  Taya's  beauty,  and  an  enumeration 
of  things  she  resembled,  dwelling  most  upon  the  blue  lily, 


160  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


I 

winch  seems  to  have  been  Le-pih's  favorite  flower.  The  burthen 
of  the  conclusion,  however,  is  the  new  value  everything  assumed 
in  her  presence.  "  Of  the  light  in  this  garden,"  he  says,  "  there 
is  one  beam  worth  all  the  glory  of  the  moon,  for  it  sleeps  on  the 
eye  of  Taya.  Of  the  air  about  me  there  is  one  breath  which  my 
soul  drinks  like  wine — it  is  from  the  lips  of  Taya.  Taya  looks  on  a 
flower,  and  that  flower  seems  to  me,  with  its  pure  eye,  to  gaze 
after  her  for  ever.  Taya's  jacket  of  blue  silk  is  my  passion.  If 
angels  visit  me  in  my  dreams,  let  them  be  dressed  like  Taya.  I 
love  the  broken  spangle  in  her  slipper  better  than  the  first  star  of 
evening.  Bring  me,  till  I  die,  inner  leaves  from  the  water-lily, 
since  white  and  fragrant  like  them  are  the  teeth  of  Taya.  Call 
me,  should  I  sleep,  when  rises  the  crescent  moon,  for  the  blue 
sky  in  its  bend  curves  like  the  drooped  eye  of  Taya,"  &c.,  &c. 

"  By  the  immortal  Eo  !  "  cried  the  emperor,  raising  himself 
bolt  upright  in  his  chair,  as  the  poet  ceased,  "  you  shall  be  the 
bard  of  Tang  !  Those  are  my  sentiments  better  expressed  !  The 
lute,  in  your  hands,  is  my  heart  turned  inside  out !  Lend  me 
your  gold  chain,  Kwonfootse,  and,  Taya  !  come  hither  and  put  it 
on  his  neck  ! " 

Taya  glided  to  the  emperor,  but  Le-pih  rose  to  his  feet,  with  a 
slight  flush  on  his  forehead,  and  stood  erect  and  motionless. 

"Let  it  please  your  imperial  majesty,"  he  said,  after  a  mo 
ment's  pause,  "  to  bestow  upon  me  some  gift  less  binding  than  a 
chain." 

"  Carbuncle  of  Budba  !  What  would  the  youth  have  !  "  ex 
claimed  Tang  in  astonishment.  "  Is  not  the  gold  cham  of  a 
mandarin  good  enough  for  his  acceptance  ?  " 

"  My  poor  song,"  replied  Le-pih,  modestly  casting  down  his 
eyes,  "  is  sufficiently  repaid  by  your  majesty's  praises.  The 


THE  POET  AND  THE  MANDARIN. 


chain  of  the  mandarin  would  gall  the  neck  of  the  poet.     Yet — 
if  I  might  have  a  reward  more  valuable — " 

"  In  Fo's  name  what  is  it  ?"  said  the  embarrassed  emperor. 
Kwonfootse  laid  his   hand  on  his  cimeter,  and  his  daughter 
blushed  and  trembled. 

"  The  broken  spangle  on  the  slipper  of  Taya !"  said  Le-pih, 
turning  half  indifferently  away. 

Loud  laughed  the  ladies  of  the  court,  and  Kwonfootse  walked 
from  the  bard  with  a  look  of  contempt,  but  the  emperor  read 
more  truly  the  proud  and  delicate  spirit  that  dictated  the  reply ; 
and  in  that  moment  probably  commenced  the  friendship  with 
which,  to  the  end  of  his  peaceful  reign,  Tang  distinguished  the 
most  gifted  poet  of  his  time. 

The  lovely  daughter  of  the  mandarin  was  not  behind  the 
emperor  in  her  interpretation  of  the  character  of  Le-pih,  and  as 
she  stepped  forward  to  put  the  detached  spangle  into  his  hand, 
she  -bent  on  him  a  look  full  of  earnest  curiosity  and  admiration. 

"  What  others  give  me,"  he  murmured  in  a  low  voice,  pressing 
the  worthless  trifle  to  his  lips,  "  makes  me  their  slave  ;  but  what 
Taya  gives  me  is  a  link  that  draws  her  to  my  bosom." 

Kwonfootse  probably  thought  that  Le-pih 's  audience  had  lasted 
long  enough,  for  at  this  moment  the  sky  seemed  bursting  into 
flame  with  a  sudden  tumult  of  fire- works,  and  in  the  confusion  that 
immediately  succeeded,  the  poet  made  his  way  unquestioned  to 
the  bank  of  the  river,  and  was  reconveyed  to  the  spot  of  his  first 
embarkation,  in  the  same  silent  manner  with  which  he  had  ap 
proached-  the  privileged  area. 

During  the  following  month,  Le-pih  seemed  much  in  request  at 
the  imperial  palace,  but,  to  the  surprise  of  his  friends,  the  keep 
ing  of  "  worshipful  society"  was  not  followed  by  any  change  in 


162  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


his  merry  manners,  nor  apparently  by  any  improvement  in  his 
worldly  condition,  nis  mother  still  sold  mats  in  the  public  mar 
ket,  and  Le-pih  still  rode,  every  few  days,  to  the  marsh,  for  his 
panniers  of  rushes,  and  to  all  comers,  among  his  old  acquaintan 
ces,  his  lute  and  song  were  as  ready  and  gratuitous  as  ever. 

All  this  time,  however,  the  fair  Taya  was  consuming  with  a 
passionate  melancholy  which  made  startling  ravages  in  her 
health,  and  the  proud  mandarin,  whose  affection  for  his  children 
was  equal  to  his  pride,  in  vain  shut  his  eyes  to  the  cause,  and  ato 
up  his  heart  with  mortification.  When  the  full  moon  came 
round  again,  reminding  him  of  the  scenes  the  last  moon  had  shone 
upon,  Kwonfootse  seemed  suddenly  lightened  of  his  care,  and  his 
superb  gardens  on  the  Pei-ho  were  suddenly  alive  with  prepara 
tions  for  another  festival.  Kept  in  close  confinement,  poor  Taya 
fed  on  her  sorrow,  indifferent  to  the  rumors  of  marriage  which 
could  concern  only  her  sisters  ;  and  the  other  demoiselles  Kwon 
footse  tried  in  vain,  with  fluttering  hearts,  to  pry  into  their 
father's  secret.  A  marriage  it  certainly  was  to  be,  for  the 
lanterns  were  painted  of  the  color  of  peach-blossoms — but  whoso 
marriage  ? 

It  was  an  intoxicating  summer's  morning,  and  the  sun  was 
busy  calling  the  dew  back  to  heaven,  and  the  birds  wild  with 
entreating  it  to  stay  (so  Le-pih  describes  it),  when  down  the  nar 
row  street  in  which  the  poet's  mother  plied  her  vocation,  there 
came  a  gay  procession  of  mounted  servants  with  a  led  horse 
richly  caparisoned,  in  the  centre.  The  one  who  rode  before  held 
on  •  his  pommel  a  velvet  cushion,  and  upon  it  lay  the  cap  of  a 
noble,  with  its  gold  ball  shining  in  the  sun.  Out  flew  the  neigh 
bors  as  the  clattering  hoofs  came  on,  and  roused  by  the  cries  and 
the  barking  of  dogs,  forth  came  the  mother  of  Le-pih,  followed  by 


THE  POET  AND  THE  MANDARIN.  163 


the  poet  himself,  but  leading  his  horse  by  the  bridle,  for  he  had 
just  thrown  on  his  panniers,  and  was  bound  out  of  the  city  to  cut 
his  bundle  of  rushes.  The  poet  gazed  on  the  pageant  with  the 
amused  curiosity  of  others,  wondering  what  it  could  mean,  abroad 
at  so  early  an  hour  ;  but,  holding  back  his  sorry  beast  to  let  the 
prancing  horsemen  have  all  the  room  they  required,  he  was 
startled  by  a  reverential  salute  from  the  bearer  of  the  velvet 
cushion,  who,  drawing  up  his  followers  in  front  of  the  poet's 
house,  dismounted  and  requested  to  speak  with  him  in  private. 

Tying  his  horse  to  the  door-post,  Le-pih  led  the  way  into  the 
small  room,  where  sat  his  mother  braiding  her  mats  to  a  cheerful 
song  of  her  son's  making,  and  here  the  messenger  informed  .the 
bard,  with  much  circumstance  and  ceremony,  that  in  consequence 
of  the  pressing  suit  of  Kwonfootse,  the  emperor  had  been  pleased 
to  grant  to  the  gifted  Le-pih,  the  rank  expressed  by  the  cap 
borne  upon  the  velvet  cushion,  and  that  as  a  noble  of  the  celes 
tial  empire,  he  was  now  a  match  for  the  incomparable  Taya. 
Furthermore  the  condescending  Kwonfootse  had  secretly  arrang 
ed  the  ceremonial  for  the  bridal,  and  Le-pih  was  commanded  to 
mount  the  led  horse  and  come  up  with  his  cap  and  gold  ball  to  be 
made  forthwith  supremely  happy. 

An  indefinable  expression  stole  over  the  features  of  the  poet  as 
he  took  up  the  cap,  and  placing  it  on  his  head,  stood  gayly  before 
his  mother.  The  old  dame  looked  at  him  a  moment,  and  the 
tears  started  to  her  eyes.  Instantly  Le-pih  plucked  it  off  and 
cast  it  on  the  waste  heap  at  her  side,  throwing  himself  upon  his 
knees  before  her  in  the  same  breath,  and  begging  her  forgiveness 
for  his  silly  jest. 

"  Take  back  your  bauble  to  Kwonfootse  !"  he  said,  rising 
proudly  to  his  feet,  ll  and  tell  him  that  the  emperor,  to  whom  I 


164  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


know  how  to  excuse  myself,  can  easily  make  a  poet  into  a  noble, 
but  he  cannot  make  a  noble  into  a  poet.  The  male  bird  does  not 
borrow  its  brighter  plumage  from  its  mate,  and  she  who  marries 
Le-pih  will  braid  rushes  for  his  mother  !" 

Astonished,  indeed,  were  the  neighbors,  who  had  learned  the 
errand  of  the  messenger  from  his  attendants  without,  to  see  the 
crest-fallen  man  come  forth  again  with  his  cap  and  cushion. 
Astonished  much  more  were  they,  ere  the  gay  cavalcade  were 
well  out  of  sight,  to  see  Le-pih  appear  with  his  merry  counten 
ance  and  plebeian  cap,  and,  mounting  his  old  horse,  trot  briskly 
away,  sickle  in  hand,  to  the  marshes.  The  day  passed  in  won 
dering  and  gossip,  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  one  person  to 
the  house  while  the  old  dame  was  gone  with  her  mats  to  the 
market,  but  she  returned  duly  before  sunset,  and  went  in  as 
usual  to  prepare  supper  for  her  son. 

The  last  beams  of  day  were  on  the  tops  of  the  pagodas  when 
Le-pih  returned,  walking  beside  his  heavy-laden  beast,  and  sing 
ing  a  merry  song.  He  threw  off  his  rushes  at  the  door  and 
entered,  but  his  song  was  abruptly  checked,  for  a  female  sat 
on  a  low  seat  by  his  mother,  stooping  over  a  half-braided  mat, 
and  the  next  moment,  the  blushing  Taya  lifted  up  her  brimming 
eyes  and  gazed  at  him  with  silent  but  pleading  love. 

Now,  at  last,  the  proud  merriment  and  self  respecting  confi 
dence  of  Le-pih  were  overcome.  His  eyes  grew  flushed  and  his 
lips  trembled  without  utterance.  With  both  his  hands  placed  on 
his  beating  heart,  he  stood  gazing  on  the  lovely  Taya. 

"  Ah  !"  cried  the  old  dame,  who  sat  with  folded  hands  and  smil 
ing  face,  looking  on  at  a  scene  which  she  did  not  quite  under 
stand,  though  it  gave  her  pleasure,  "  Ah  !  this  is  a  wife  for  my 
boy,  sent  from  heaven !  No  haughty  mandarin's  daughter  she  ! 


THE  POET  AND  THE  MANDARIN.  165 


no  proud  minx  to  fall  in  love  with  the  son  and  despise  the 
mother !  Let  them  keep  their  smart  caps  and  gift-horses  for 
those  who  can  be  bought  at  such  prices  !  -My  son  is  a  noble  by 
the  gift  of  his  Maker — better  than  an  emperor's  gold  ball !  Come 
to  your  supper,  Le-pih  !  Come,  my  sweet  daughter  !" 

Taya  placed  her  finger  on  her  lip,  and  Le-pih  agreed  that  the 
moment  had  not  yet  come  to  enlighten  his  mother  as  to  the 
quality  of  her  guest.  She  was  not  long  in  ignorance,  however, 
for  before  they  could  seat  themselves  at  table,  there  was  a  loud 
knocking  at  the  door,  and  before  the  old  dame  could  bless  her 
self,  an  officer  entered  and  arrested  the  daughter  of  Kwanfootse 
by  name,  and  Le-pih  and  his  mother  at  the  same  time,  and  there 
was  no  dismissing  the  messenger  now.  Off  they  marched,  amid 
the  silent  consternation  and  pity  of  the  neighbors — not  toward 
the  palace  of  justice,  however,  but  to  the  palace  of  the  emperor, 
where  his  majesty,  to  save  all  chances  of  mistake,  chose  to  see 
the  poet  wedded,  and  sit,  himself,  at  the  bridal  feast.  Tang  had 
a  romantic  heart,  fat  and  voluptuous  as  he  was,  and  the  end  of 
his  favor  to  Le-pih  and  Taya  was  the  end  of  his  life. 


THE   COUNTESS  NYSCHRIEM, 

AND    THE    HANDSOME    ARTIST. 

THAT  favored  portion  of  the  light  of  one  summer's  morning 
that  was  destined  to  be  the  transparent  bath  of  the  master-pieces 
on  the  walls  of  the  Pitti,  was  pouring  in  a  languishing  flood 
through  the  massive  windows  of  the  palace.  The  ghosts  of  the 
painters  (who,  ministering  to  the  eye  only,  walk  the  world  from 
cock-crowing  to  sunset)  were  haunting  invisibly  the  sumptuous 
rooms  made  famous  by  their  pictures  ;  and  the  pictures  them 
selves,  conscious  of  the  presence  of  the  fountain  of  soul  from 
which  gushed  the  soul  that  is  in  them,  glowed  with  intoxicated 
mellowness  and  splendor,  and  amazed  the  living  students  of  the 
gallery  with  effects  of  light  and  color  till  that  moment  undiscov 
ered. 

[And  now,  dear  reader,  having  paid  you  the  compliment  of 
commencing  my  story  in  your  vein  (poetical),  let  me  come  down 
to- a  little  every-day  brick-and-mortar,  and  build  up  a  fair  and 
square  common-sense  foundation], 

Graeme  McDonald  was  a  young  Highlander  from  Rob  Roy's 
country,  come  to  Florence  to  study  the  old  masters.  He  was  aa 
athletic,  wholesome,  handsome  fellow,  who  had  probably  made  a 


THE  COUNTESS  NYSCHRIEM 


narrow  escape  of  being  simply  a  fine  animal ;  and,  as  it  was,  you 
never  would  have  picked  him  from  a  crowd  as  anything  but  a 
hussar  out  of  uniform,  or  a  brigand  perverted  to   honest  life. 
His  peculiarity  was  (and  this  I  forsce  is  to  be  an  ugly  sentence), 
that  he  had  peculiarities  which  did  not  seem  peculiar.     He  was 
full  of  genius  for  his  art,  but  the  canvass  which  served  him  as  a 
vent,  gave  him  no  more  anxiety  than  his  pocket-handkerchief. 
He  painted  in  the  palace,  or  wiped  his  forehead  on  a  warm  day 
with  equally  small  care,  to  all  appearance,  and  he  had  brought 
his  mother  and  two  sisters  to  Italy,  and  supported  them  by  a 
most  heroic  economy  and  industry — all  the  while  looking  as  if  the 
"  silver  moon"  and  all  the  small  change  of  the  stars  would  scarce 
serve  him  for  a  day's  pocket-money.     Indeed,  the  more  I  »k«ew 
of  McDonald,  the  more  I  became  convinced  that  there  waslin- 
other  man  built  over  him.     The  painter  was  inside.     And  if  he 
had  free  thoroughfare  and  use  of  the  outer  man's  windows  and 
ivory  door,  he  was  at  any  rate  barred  from  hanging  out  the  small 
est  sign  or  indication  of  being  at  any  time  "  within."     Think  as 
hard  as  he  would — devise,  combine,  study,  or  glow  with  enthusi 
asm — the  proprietor  of  the  front  door  exhibited  the  same  care 
less  and  smiling  bravery  of  mien,  behaving  invariably  as  if  he 
had  the  whole  tenement  to  himself,  and  was  neither  proud  of, 
nor  interested  in  the  doings  of  his  more  spiritual  inmate — lead 
ing  you  to  suppose,  almost,  that  the  latter,  though  billeted  upon 
him,  had  not  been  properly  introduced.     The  thatch  of  this  com 
mon  tenement  was  of  jetty  black  hair,  curling  in  most  opulent 
prodigality,  and,  altogether,  it  was  a  house  that  Iladad,  the  fallen 
spirit,  might  have  chosen,  when  becoming  incarnate  to  tempt  the 
sister  of  Absalom. 

Perhaps  you  have  been  in  Florence,  dear  reader,  and  know  by 


168  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


what  royal  liberality  artists  are  permitted  to  bring  their  easels 
into  the  splendid  apartments  of  the  palace,  and  copy  from  the 
priceless  pictures  on  the  walls.  At  the  time  I  have  my  eye  upon 
(some  few  years  ago),  McDonald  was  making  a  beginning  of  a 
copy  of  Titian's  Bella,  and  near  him  stood  the  easel  of  a  female 
artist  who  was  copying  from  the  glorious  picture  of  "  Judith  and 
Holofernes,"  in  the  same  apartment.  Mademoiselle  Folie  (so  she 
was  called  by  the  elderly  lady  who  always  accompanied  her)  was 
a  small  and  very  gracefully-formed  creature,  with  the  plainest 
face  in  which  attraction  could  possibly  reside.  She  was  a  pas 
sionate  student  of  her  art,  pouring  upon  it  apparently  the  entire 
fulness  of  her  life,  and  as  unconsciously  forgetful  of  her  personal 
impressions  on  those  around  her,  as  if  she  wore  the  invisible  ring 
ofvyges.  The  deference  with  which  she  was  treated  by  her 
staid  companion  drew  some  notice  upon  her,  however,  and  her 
progress,  in  the  copy  she  was  making,  occasionally  gathered  the 
artists  about  her  easel ;  and,  altogether,  her  position  among  the 
silent  and  patient  company  at  work  in  the  different  halls  of  the 
palace,  was  one  of  affectionate  and  tacit  respect.  McDonald 
was  her  nearest  neighbor,  and  they  frequently  looked  over  each 
other's  pictures,  but,  as  they  were  both  foreigners'  in  Florence 
(she  of  Polish  birth,  as  he  understood),  their  conversation  was  in 
French  or  Italian,  neither  of  which  languages  were  fluently  famil 
iar  to  Graeme,  and  it  was  limited  generally  to  expressions  of 
courtesy  or  brief  criticism  of  each  other's  labors. 

As  I  said  before,  it  was  'a  "  proof-impression"  of  a  celestial 
summer's  morning,  and  the  thermometer  stood  at  heavenly  idle 
ness.  McDonald  sat  with  his  maul-stick  across  his  knees,  drink 
ing  from  Titian's  picture.  An  artist,  who  had  lounged  in  from 
the  next  room,  had  hung  himself  by  the  crook  of  his  arm  over  a 


THE    COUNTESS    NYSCHRIEM.  159 


hi<ih  peg,  in  his  comrade's  easel,  and  every  now  and  then  he  vol 
unteered  an  observation  to  which  he  expected  no  particular  an 
swer. 

"  When  I  remember  how  little  beauty  I  have  seen  in  the 
world,"  said  Ingarde  (this  artist),  "  I  am  inclined  to  believe  with 
Saturninus.  that  there  is  no  resurrection  of  bodies,  and  that  only 
the  spirits  of  the  good  return  into  the  body  of  the  Godhead — for 
what  is  ugliness  to  do  in  heaven  ?" 
McDonald  only  said,  "  hm — hm  !" 

"  Or  rather,"  said  Ingarde  again,  "  I  should  like  to  fashion  a 
creed  for  myself,  and  believe  that  nothing  was  immortal  but  what 
was  heavenly,  and  that  the  good  among  men  and  the  beautiful 
among  women  would  be  the  only  reproductions  hereafter.  How 
will  this  little'  plain  woman  look  in  the  streets  of  the  New  Jeru 
salem,  for  example  ?  Yet  she  expects,  as  we  all  do,  to  be  recog 
nizable  by  her  friends  in  Heaven,  and,  of  course,  to  have  the 
same  irredeemably  plain  face  !  (Does  she  understand  English, 
by  the  way — for  she  might  not  be  altogether  pleased  with  my 
theory !") 

"  I  have  spoken  to  her  very  often,"  said  McDonald,  "  and  I 
think  English  is  Hebrew  to  her — but  my  theory  of  beauty  cross 
es  at  least  one  coiner  of  your  argument,  my  friend  !  I  believe 
that  the  original  type  of  every  human  face  is  beautiful,  and  that 
every  human  being  could  be  made  beautiful,  without,  in  any 
essential  particular,  destroying  the  visible  identity.  The  likeness 
preserved  in  the  faces  of  a  family  through  several  generations  is 
modified  by  the  bad  mental  qualities,  and  the  bad  health  of  those 
who  hand  it  down.  Remove  these  modifications,  and  without 
destroying  the  family  likeness,  you  would  take  away  all  that  mars 
the  beauty  of  its  particular  type.  An  individual  countenance  is 
8 


170  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

an  integral  work  of  God's  making,  and  God  saw  that  it  was 
good '  when  he  made  it.  Ugliness,  as  you  phrase  it,  is  the  dam 
age  that  type  of  countenance  has  received  from  the  sin  and  suf 
fering  of  life.  But  the  type  can  be  restored,  and  will  be,  doubt- 
lub>,  in  Heaven  !" 

"  And  you  think  that  little  woman's  face  could  be  made  beau 
tiful?" 

"  I  know  it." 

"  Try  it,  then !  Here  is  your  copy  of  Titian's  '  Bella,'  all  fin 
ished  but  the  face.  Make  an  apotheosis  portrait  of  your  neigh 
bor,  and  while  it  harmonizes  with  the  body  of  Titian's  beauty, 
still  leave  it  recognizable  as  her  portrait,  and  I'll  give  in  to  your 
theory — believing  in  all  other  miracles,  if  you  like,  at  the  samo 
time !" 

Ingarde  laughed,  as  he  went  back  to  his  own  picture,  and  Mc 
Donald,  after  sitting  a  few  minutes  lost  in  revery,  turned  his 
easel  so  as  to  get  a  painter's  view  of  his  female  neighbor.  He 
thought  she  colored  slightly  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  her  ;  but, 
if  so,  she  apparently  became  very  soon  unconscious  of  his  gaze, 
and  he  was  soon  absorbed  himself  in  the  task  to  which  his  friend 
had  bo  mockingly  challenged  him. 

n. 

[Excuse  me,  dear  reader,  while  with  two  epistles  I  build  a 
bridge  over  which  you  can  cross  a  chasm  of  a  month  in  my  story.] 

"  To  GRAEME  MCDONALD. 

"  Sir  :  I  am  intrusted  with  a  delicate  commission,  which  I 
know  not  how  to  broach  to  you,  except  by  simple  proposal. 
Will  you  forgive  my  abrupt  brevity,  if  I  inform  you,  without  fur 
ther  preface,  that  the  Countess  Nyschriein,  a  Polish  lady  of  high 


THE  COUNTESS  NYSCHRIEM. 


birth  and  ample  fortune,  does  you  the  honor  to  propose  for  your 
baud.  If  you  are  disengaged,  and  your  affections  are  not  irre 
vocably  given  to  another,  I  can  conceive  no  sufficient  obstacle  to 
your  acceptance  of  this  brilliant  connexion.  The  countess  is 
twenty-two,  and  not  beautiful,  it  must  in  fairness  be  said  ;  but 
she  has  high  qualities  of  head  and  heart,  and  is  worthy  of  any 
man's  respect  and  affection.  She  has  seen  you,  of  course,  and 
conceived  a  passion  for  you,  of  which  this  is  the  result.  I  am 
directed  to  add,  that  should  you  consent,  the  following  conditions 
are  imposed  —  that  you  marry  her  within  four  days,  making  no 
inquiry  except  as  to  her  age,  rank,  and  property,  and  that,  with 
out  previous  interview,  she  come  veiled  to  the  altar. 

"  An  answer  is  requested  in  the  course  of  to-morrow,  address 
ed  to  '  The  Count  Hanswald,  minister  of  his  majesty  the  king  of 
Prussia.' 

"  I  have  the  honor,  &c.,  &c.  "  HANSWALD." 

McDonald's  answer  was  as  follows  :  — 

"  To  HIS  EXCELLENCY,  HANSWALD,  &c.,  &c. 

"  You  Vt'ill  pardon  roe  that  I  have  taken  two  days  to  consider 
the  extraordinary  proposition  made  me  in  your  letter.  The  sub 
ject,  since  it  is  to  be  entertained  a  moment,  requires,  perhaps, 
still  further  reflection  —  but  my  reply  shall  be  definite,  and  as 
prompt  as  I  can  bring  myself  to  be,  in  a  matter  so  important. 

"  My  first  impulse  was  to  return  your  letter,  declining  the  honor 
you  would  do  me,  and  thanking  the  lady  for  the  compliment  of 
her  choice.  My  first  reflection  was  the  relief  and  happiness  which 
an  independence  would  bring  to  a  mother  and  two  sisters  depen 
dent,  now,  on  the  precarious  profits  of  my  pencil.  And  I  first 
consented  to  ponder  the  matter  with  this  view,  and  I  now  consent 


172  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

to  marry  (frankly)  for  this  advantage.     But  still  I  have  a  condi 
tion  to  propose. 

"  In  the  studies  I  have  had  the  opportunity  to  make  of  the 
happiness  of  imaginative  men  in  matrimony,  I  have  observed  that 
thuir  two  worlds  of  fact  and  fancy  were  seldom  under  the  control 
of  one  mistress.  It  must  be  a  very  extraordinary  woman  of 
course,  who,  with  the  sweet  domestic  qualities  needful  for  com 
mon  life,  possesses  at  the  same  time  the  elevation  and  spirituality 
requisite  for  the  ideal  of  the  poet  and  painter.  And  I  am  not 
certain,  in  any  case,  whether  the  romance  of  some  secret  passion, 
fed  and  pursued  in  the  imagination  only,  be  not  the  inseparable 
necessity  of  a  poetical  nature.  For  the  imagination  is  incapable 
of  being  chained,  and  it  is  at  ouce  disenchanted  and  set  roaming 
by  the  very  possession  and  certainty,  which  are  the  charms  of 
matrimony.  Whether  exclusive  devotion  of  all  the  faculties  of 
mind  and  body  be  the  fidelity  exacted  in  marriage,  is  a  question 
every  woman  should  consider  before  making  a  husband  of  an  im 
aginative  man.  As  I  have  not  seen  the  countess,  I  can  general 
ize  on. the  subject  without  giving  offence,  and  she  is  the  best 
judge  whether  she  can  chain  my  fancy  as  well  as  my  affections,  or 
yield  to  an  imaginative  mistress  the  devotion  of  so  predominant  a 
quality  of  my  nature.  I  can  only  promise  her  the  constancy  of 
a  husband. 

"  Still — if  this  were  taken  for  only  vague  speculation — she 
might  be  deceived.  I  must  declare,  frankly,  that  I  am  at  pres 
ent,  completely  possessed  with  an  imaginative  passion.  The 
object  of  it  is  probably  as  poor  as  I,  and  I  could  never  marry  her 
were  I  to  continue  free.  Probably,  too,  the  high-born  countesa 
would  be  but  little  jealous  of  her  rival,  for  she  has  no  pretensions 
to  beauty,  and  is  an  humble  artist.  But,  in  painting  this  lady 'a 


THE  COUNTESS  NYSCHRIEM. 


portrait — (a  chance  experiment,  to  try  whether  so  plain  a  face 
could  be  made  lovely) — I  have  penetrated  to  so  beautiful  an 
inner  countenance  (so  to  speak) — I  have  found  charms  of  impres 
sion  so  subtly  masked  to  the  common  eye — I  have  traced  such 
exquisite  lineament  of  soul  and  feeling,  visible,  for  the  present,  I 
believe,  to  my  eye  only — that,  while  I  live,  I  shall  do  irresistible 
homage  to  her  as  the  embodiment  of  my  fancy's  want,  the  very 
Bpirit  and  essence  suitable  to  rule  over  my  unseen  world  of  im 
agination.  Many  whom  I  will,  and  be  true  to  her  as  I  shall, 
this  lady  will  (perhaps  unknown  to  herself)  be  my  mistress  in 
dream-land  and  revery. 

"  This  inevitable  license  allowed — my  ideal  world  and  its  de 
votions,  that  is  to  say,  left  entirely  to  myself — I  am  ready  to 
accept  the  honor  of  the  countess's  hand.  If,  at  the  altar,  she 
should  hear  me  murm'ur  another  name  with  her  own — (for  tho 
bride  of  my  fancy  must  be  present  when  I  wed,  and  I  shall  link 
the  vows  to  both  in  one  ceremony) — let  her  not  fear  for  my  con 
stancy  to  herself,  but  let  her  remember  that  it  is  not  to  offend 
her  hereafter,  if  the  name  of  the  other  come  to  my  lip  in  dreams. 

"  Your  excellency  may  command  my  time  and  presence. 
With  high  consideration,  &c., 

"  GRAEME  MCDONALD." 

Kather  agitated  than  surprised  seemed  Mademoiselle  Folie, 
when,  the  next  day,  as  she  arranged  her  brushes  upon  the  shelf 
of  her  easel,  her  handsome  neighbor  commenced,  in  the  most 
fluent  Italian  he  could  command,  to  invite  her  to  his  wedding. 
Very  much  surprised  was  McDonald  when  she  interrupted  him  in 
English,  and  begwd  him  to  use  his  native  tongue,  as  madame, 
her  attendant,  would  not  then  understand  him.  He  went  on 


174  *'UN    JOTTINGS. 


delightedly  in  his  own  honest  language,  and  explained  to  her  his 
.native  admiration,  though  he  felt  compunctious,  somewhat, 
that  so  unreal  a  sentiment  should  bring  the  blood  into  her  cheek. 
She  thanked  him — drew  the  cloth  from  the  upper  part  of  her 
own  picture,  and  showed  him  an  admirable  portrait  of  his  hand 
some  features,  substituted  for  the  masculine  head  of  Judith  in  the 
original  from  which  she  copied — and  promised  to  be  at  his  wed 
ding,  and  to  listen  sharply  for  her  murmured  name  in  his  vow  at 
the  altar.  He  chanced  to  wear  at  the  moment  a  ring  of  red  cor 
nelian,  and  he  agreed  with  her  that  she  should  stand  where  he 
could  see  her,  and,  at  the  moment  of  his  putting  the  marriage 
ring  upon  the  bride's  fingers,  that  she  should  put  on  this,  and  for 
ever  after  wear  it,  as  a  token  of  having  received  his  spiritual  vows 
of  devotion. 

The  day  came,  and  the  splendid  equipage  of  the  countess 
dashed  into  the  square  of  Santa  Maria,  with  a  veiled  bride  and  a 
cold  bridegroom,  and  deposited  them  at  the  steps  of  the  church. 
And  they  wflre  followed  by  other  coroneted  equipages,  and  gayly 
dressed  from  each — the  mother  and  sisters  of  the  bridegroom 
gayly  dressed,  among  them,  but  looking  pale  with  incertitude  and 
dread. 

The  veiled  bride  was  small,  but  she  moved  gracefully  up  the 
aisle,  and  met  her  future  husband  at  the  altar  with  a  low  courte 
sy,  and  made  a  sign  to  the  priest  to  proceed  with  the  ceremony. 
McDonald  was  colorless,  but  firm,  and  indeed  showed  little 
interest,  except  by  an  anxious  look  now  and  then  among  the 
crowd  of  spectators  at  the  sides  of  the  altar.  He  pronounced 
with  a  steady  voice,  but  when  the  ring  was  to  be  put  on,  he  look 
ed  around  for  an  instant,  and  then  suddenly,  and  to  the  groat 
scandal  of  the  church,  clasped  his  bride  with  a  passionate  ejacu- 


THE  COUNTESS  NYSCHRIEM.  175 


lation  to  his  bosom.  The  cornelian  ring  was  on  her  finger — and 
the  Countess  Nyschriem  and  Mademoiselle  Folie — his  bride  and 
his  fancy  queen — were  one. 

This  curious  event  happened  in  Florence  some  eight  years 
since — as  all  people  then  there  will  remember — and  it  was  pro 
phesied  of  the  countess  that  she  would  have  but  a  short  lease  of 
her  handsome  and  gay  husband.  But  time  does  not  say  so.  A 
more  constant  husband  than  McDonald  to  his  rSain  and  titled 
wife,  and  one  more  continuously  in  love,  does  not  travel  and  buy 
pictures,  and  patronize  artists — though  few  except  yourself  and 
I,  dear  reader,  know  the  philosophy  of  it ! 


THE  INLET  OF  PEACH-BLOSSOMS, 

THE  Emperor  Yuentsoong,  of  the  dynasty  Chow,  was  the  most 
magnificent  of  the  long-descended  succession  of  Chinese  sove 
reigns.  On  his  first  accession  to  the  throne,  his  character  was  so 
little  understood,  that  a  conspiracy  was  set  on  foot  among  tho 
yellow-caps,  or  eunuchs,  to  put  out  his  eyes,  and  place  upon  the 
throne  the  rebel  Szeina,  in  whose  warlike  hands,  they  asserted, 
the  empire  would  more  properly  maintain  its  ancient  glory.  The 
gravity  and  reserve  which  these  myrmidons  of  the  palace  had  con 
strued  into  stupidity  and  fear,  soon  assumed  another  complexion, 
however.  The  eunuchs  silently  disappeared  ;  the  mandarins  and 
princes  whom  they  had  seduced  from  their  allegiance, 'were  made 
loyal  subjects  by  a  generous  pardon  ;  and  in  a  few  days  after  the 
period  fixed  upon  for  the  consummation  of  the  plot,  Yuentsoong 
set  forth  in  complete  armor  at  the  head  of  his  troops  to  give  bat 
tle  to  the  rebel  in  the  mountains. 

In  Chinese  annals  this  first  enterprise  of  the  youthful  Yuent 
soong  is  recorded  with  great  pomp  and  particularity.  Szema  was 
a  Tartar  prince  of  uncommon  ability,  young  like  the  emperor, 
and,  during  the  few  last  imbecile  years  of  the  old  sovereign,  he 
bad  gathered  strength  in  his  rebellion,  till  now  ho  was  at  the  head 


THE  INLET  OF  PEACH  BLOSSOMS. 


of  ninety  thousand  men,  all  soldiers  of  repute  and  tried  valor. 
The  historian  has  unfortunately  dimmed  the  emperor's  fame  to 
European  eyes,  by  attributing  his  wonderful  achievements  in  this 
expedition  to  his  superiority  in  arts  of  magic.  As  this  account 
of  his  exploits  is  only  prefatory  to  our  tale,  we  will  simply  give 
the  reader  an  idea  of  the  style  of  the  historian,  by  translating  lit 
erally  a  passage  or  two  of  his  description  of  the  battle  : — 

"  Szema  now  took  refuge  within  a  cleft  of  the  mountain,  and 
Yuentsoong,  upon  his  swift  steed,  outstripping  the  body-guard  in 
his  ardor,  dashed  amid  the  paralyzed  troops  with  poised  spear,  his 
eyes  fixed  only  on  the  rebel.  There  was  a  silence  of  an  instant, 
broken  only  by  the  rattling  hoofs  of  the  intruder,  and  then,  with 
dishevelled  hair  and  waving  sword,  Szema  uttered  a  fearful  im 
precation.  In  a  moment  the  wind  rushed,  the  air  blackened,  and 
with  the  suddenness  of  a  fallen  rock,  a  large  cloud  enveloped  the 
rebel,  and  innumerable  men  and  horses  issued  out  of  it.  Wings 
flapped  against  the  eyes  of  the  emperor's  horse,  hellish  noises 
screamed  in  his  ears,  and,  completely  beyond  control,  the  animal 
turned  and  fled  back  through  the  narrow  pass,  bearing  his  impe 
rial  master  safe  into  the  heart  of  his  army. 

"  Yuentsoong,  that  night,  commanded  some  of  his  most  expert 
soldiers  to  scale  the  beetling  heights  of  the  ravine,  bearing  upon 
their  backs  the  blood  of  swine,  sheep,  and  dogs,  with  other  im 
pure  things,  and  these  they  were  ordered  to  shower  upon  the 
combatants  at  the  sound  of  the  imperial  clarion.  On  the  follow 
ing  morning,  Szema  came  forth  again  to  offer  battle,  with  flags 
displayed,  drums  beating,  and  shouts  of  triumph  and  defiance. 
As  on  the  day  previous,  the  bold  emperor  divided,  in  his  impa 
tience,  rank  after  rank  of  his  own  soldiery,  and,  followed  closely 
by  his  body-guard,  drove  the  rebel  army  once  more  into  their 
8* 


178  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

fastness.  Sz"ina  .sat  upon  Ins  war-horse  as  before,  entrenched 
amid  his  officers  and  ranks  of  the  tallest  Tartar  spearmen,  and 
as  the  emperor  contended  hand  to  hand  with  one  of  the  opposing 
rebels,  the  magic  imprecation  was  again  uttered,  the  air  again 
filled  with  cloudy  horsemen  and  chariots,  and  the  mountain  sha 
ken  with  discordant  thunder.  Backing  his  willing  steed,  the  em 
peror  blew  a  long  sharp  note  upon  his  silver  clarion,  and  in  an 
instant  the  sun  broke  through  the  darkness,  and  the  air  seemed 
filled  with  paper  men,  horses  of  straw,  and  phantoms  dissolving 
into  smoke.  Yuentsoong  and  Szema  now  stood  face  to  face,  with 
only  mortal  aid  and  weapons." 

The  historian  goes  on  to  record  that  the  two  armies  suspended 
hostilities  at  the  command  of  their  leaders,  and  that  the  emperor 
and  his  rebel  subject  having  engaged  in  single  combat,  Yeunt- 
soong  was  victorious,  and  returned  to  his  capital  with  the  formida 
ble  enemy,  whose  life  he  had  spared,  riding  beside  him  like  a 
brother.  The  conqueror's  career,  for  several  years  after  this, 
seems  to  have  been  a  series  of  exploits  of  personal  valor,  and  the 
Tartar  prince  shared  in  all  his  dangers  and  pleasures,  his  insepa 
rable  friend.  It  was  during  this  period  of  romantic  friendship 
that  the  events  occurred  which  have  made  Yuentsoonf  one  of  the 

O 

idols  of  Chinese  poetry. 

By  the  side  of  a  lake  in  a  distant  province  of  the  empire, 
stood  one  of  the  imperial  palaces  of  pleasure,  seldom  visited,  and 
almost  in  ruins.  Hither,  in  one  of  his  moody  periods  of  repose 
from  war,  came  the  conqueror  Yuentsoong,  for  the  first  time  in 
years  separated  from  his  faithful  Szema.  In  disguise,  and  with 
only  one  or  two  attendants,  he  established  himself  in  the  long 
silr-nt  halls  of  his  ancestor  Tsinchemong,  and  with  his  boat  upon 
the  lake,  and  his  spear  in  the  forest,  seemed  to  find  all  the  amuse- 


THE  INLET  OF  PEACH-BLOSSOMS.  179 


ment  of  svhich  his  melancholy  was  susceptible.  On  a  certain  day 
ia  the  latter  part  of  April,  the  emperor  had  set  his  sail  to  a  fra 
grant  south  wind,  and  reclining  on  the  cushions  of  his  bark, 
watched  the  shore  as  it  softly  and  silently  glided  past,  and,  the  lake 
being  entirely  encircled  by  the  imperial  forest,  he  felt  immersed  in 
what  he  believed  to  be  the  solitude  of  a  deserted  paradise.  After 
skirting  the  fringed  sheet  of  water  in  this  manner  for  several 
hours,  he  suddenly  observed  that  he  had  shot  through  a  streak  of 
peach-blossoms  floating  from  the  shore,  and  at  the  same  moment 
he  became  conscious  that  his  boat  was  slightly  headed  off  by 
a  current  setting  outward.  Putting  up  his  helm,  he  returned  to 
the  spot,  and  beneath  the  drooping  branches  of  some  luxuriant 
willows,  thus  early  in  leaf,  he  discovered  the  mouth  of  an  inlet, 
which,  but  for  the  floating  blossoms  it  brought  to  the  lake,  would 
have  escaped  the  notice  of  the  closest  observer.  The  emperor 
now  lowered  his  sail,  unshipped  the  slender  mast,  and  betook  him 
to  the  oars,  and  as  the  current  was  gentle,  -and  the  inlet  \vider 
within  the  mouth,  he  sped  rapidly  on,  through  what  appeared  to 
be  but  a  lovely  and  luxuriant  vale  of  the  forest.  Still,  those 
blushing  betrayers  of  some  flowering  spot  beyond,  extended  like 
a  rosy  clue  before  him,  and  with  impulse  of  muscles  swelled  and 
indurated  in  warlike  exercise,  the  swift  keel  divided  the  besprent 
mirror  winding  temptingly  onward,  and,  for  a  long  hour,  the  royal 
oarsman  untiringly  threaded  this  sweet  vein  of  the  wilderness. 

Resting  a  moment  on  his  oars  while  the  slender  bark  still  kept 
her  way,  he  turned  his  head  toward  what  seemed  to  be  an  open 
ing  in  the  forest  on  the  left,  and  in  the  same  instant  the  boat  ran, 
head  on,  to  the  shore,  the  inlet  at  this  point  almost  doubling  on 
its  course.  Beyond,  by  the  humming  of  bees,  and  the  singing  of 
birds,  there  should  be  a  spot  more  open  than  the  tangled  wilder- 


180  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


ness  he  had  passed,  and  disengaging  his  prow  from  the  alders,  he 
shoved  the  boat  again  into  the  stream,  and  pulled  round  a  high 
rock,  by  which  the  inlet  seemed  to  have  been  compelled  to  curve 
its  channel.  The  edge  of  a  bright  green  meadow  now  stole  into 
the  perspective,  and,  still  widening  with  his  approach,  disclosed  a 
slightly  rising  terrace  clustered  with  shrubs,  and  studded  here  and 
there  with  vases ;  and  farther  on,  upon  the  same  side  of  the 
stream,  a  skirting  edge  of  peach-trees,  loaded  with  the  gay  blos 
soms  which  had  guided  him  hither. 

Astonished  at  these  signs  of  habitation  in  what  was  well  under 
stood  to  be  a  privileged  wilderness,  Yuentsoong  kept  his  boat  in 
mid-stream,  arid  with  his  eyes  vigilantly  on  the  alert,  slowly 
made  headway  against  the  current.  A  few  strokes  with  his  oars, 
however,  traced  another  curve  of  the  inlet,  and  brought  into  view 
a  grove  of  ancient  trees  scattered  over  a  gently  ascending  lawn, 
beyond  which,  hidden  by  the  river  till  now  by  the  projecting 
shoulder  of  a  mound,  lay  a  small  pavilion  with  gilded  pillars, 
glittering  like  fairy-work  in  the  sun.  The  emperor  fastened  his 
boat  to  a  tree  leaning  over  the  water,  and  with  his  short  spear  in 
his  hand,  bounded  upon  the  shore,  and  took  his  way  toward  the 
shining  structure,  his  heart  beating  with  a  feeling  of  wonder  aud 
interest  altogether  new.  On  a  nearer  approach,  the  bases  of  the 
pillars  seemed  decayed  by  time,  and  the  gilding  weather-stained 
and  tarni.-hod,  but  the  trellised  porticoes  on  the  southern  aspect 
were  laden  with  flowering  shrubs,  in  vases  of  porcelain,  and  caged 
birds  sang  between  the  pointed  arches,  and  there  were  manifest 
signs  of  luxurious  taste,  elegance,  and  care. 

A  moment,  with  an  indefinable  timidity,  the  emperor  paused 
before  stepping  from  the  green  sward  upon  the  marble  floor  of  the 
pavilion,  and  in  that  moment  a  curtain  was  withdrawn  from  the 


THE  INLET  OF   PEACH-BLOSSOMS 


door,  and  a  female,  with  step  suddenly  arrested  by  the  sight  of 
the  stranger,  stood  motionless  before  him.  Ravished  with  her 
extraordinary  beauty,  and  awe-struck  with  the  suddenness  of  the 
apparition  and  the  novelty  of  the  adventure,  the  emperor's  tongue 
cleaved  to  his  mouth,  and  ere  he  could  summon  resolution,  even 
for  a  gesture  of  courtesy,  the  fair  creature  had  fled  within,  and 
the  curtain  closed  the  entrance  as  before. 

Wishing  to  re'eover  his  composure,  so  strangely  troubled,  and 
taking  it  for  granted  that  some  other  inmate  of  the  house  would 
soon  appear,  Yuentsoong  turned  his  steps  aside  to  the  grove,  and 
with  his  head  bowed,  and  his  spear  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm,  tried 
to  recall  more  vividly  the  features  of  the  vision  he  had  seen.  He 
had  walked  but  a  few  paces,  when  there  came  toward  him  from 
the  upper  skirt  of  the  grove,  a  man  of  unusual  stature  and  erect- 
ness,  with  white  hair,  unbraided  on  his  shoulders,  and  every  sign 
of  age  except  infirmity  of  step  and  mien.  The  emperor's  habit 
ual  dignity  had  now  rallied,  and  on  his  first  salutation,  the  coun 
tenance  of  the  old  man  softened,  and  he  quickened  his  pace  to  meet 
and  give  him  welcome. 

"  You  are  noble  ?  "    he  said,  with  confident  inquiry. 

Yuentsoong  colored  slightly.' 

"  I  am,"  he  replied,  "  Lew-melin,  a  prince  of  the  empire." 

"  And  by  what  accident  here  ?  " 

Yuentsoong  explained,  the  clue  of  the  peach-blossoms,  and 
represented  himself  as  exiled  for  a  time  to  the  deserted  palace 
upon  the  lakes. 

"  I  have  a  daughter,"  said  the  old  man,  abruptly,  "  who  has 
never  looked  on  human  face,  save  mine." 

"  Pardon  me  !  "  replied  his  visitor  ;  "  I  have  thoughtlessly  in 
truded  on  her  sight,  and  a  face  more  heavenly  fair  — 


1  ga  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

The  emperor  hesitated,  but  the  old  man  smiled  encouragingly. 

"  It  is  time,"  he  said,  "  that  I  should  provide  a  younger  de 
fender  for  my  bright  Teh-leen,  and  Heaven  has  sent  you  in  the 
season  of  peach-blossoms,  with  provident  kindness.*  You  have 
frankly  revealed  to  me  your  name  and  rank.  Before  I  offer  you 
the  hospitality  of  my  roof,  I  must  tell  you  mine.  I  am  Choo- 
tsecn,  the  outlaw,  once  of  your  own  rank,  and  the  general  of  the 
Celestial  army." 

The  emperor  started,  remembering  that  this  celebrated  rebel 
was  the  terror  of  his  father's  throfle. 

"  You  have  heard  my  history,"  the  old  man  continued.  "  I 
had  been,  before  my  rebellion,  in  charge  of  the  imperial  palace  on 
the  lake.  Anticipating  an  evil  day,  I  secretly  prepared  this  re 
treat  for  my  family ;  and  when  my  soldiers  deserted  me  at  the 
battle  of  Ke-chow,  and  a  price  was  set  upon  my  head,  hither  I 
fled  with  my  women  and  children ;  and  the  last  alive  is  my  beau 
tiful  Teh-leen.  With  this  brief  outline  of  my  life,  you  are  at 
liberty  to  leave  me  as  you  came,  or  to  enter  my  house,  on  the 
condition  that  you  become  the  protector  of  my  child." 

The  emperor  eagerly  turned  toward  the  pavilion,  and  with  a 
step  as  light  as  his  own,  the  erect  and  stately  outlaw  hastened  to 
lift  the  curtain  before  him.  Leaving  his  guest  for  a  moment  in 
the  outer  apartment,  he  entered  to  an  inner  chamber  in  search  of 
his  daughter,  whom  he  brought,  panting  with  fear,  and  blushing 
with  surprise  and  delight,  to  her  future  lover  and  protector.  A 
portion  of  an  historical  tale  so  delicate  as  the  description  of  the 
heroine  is  not  work  for  imitators,  however,  and  we  must  copy 
strictly  the  portrait  of  the  matchless  Teh-leen,  as  drawn  by  Le- 

*  The  season  of  peach-blossoms  was  the  only  season  of  marringe  in  ancient 
China 


THE  INLET  OF  PEACH-BLOSSOMS.  183 


pih,  the  Anacreon  of  Chinese  poetry,  and  the  contemporary  and 
favorite  of  Yuentsoong. 

"  Teh-leen  was  born  while  the  morning  star  shone  upon  the 
bosom  of  her  mother.  Her  eye  was  like  the  unblemished  blue 
lily,  and  its  light  like  the  white  gem  unfractured.  The  plum- 
blossom  is  most  fragrant  when  the  cold  has  penetrated  its  stem, 
and  the  mother  of  Teh-leen  had  known  sorrow.  The  head  of  her 
child  drooped  in  thought,  like  a,  violet  overladen  with  dew.  Be 
wildering  was  Teh-leen.  Her  mouth's  corners  were  dimpled,  yet 
pensive.  The  arch  of  her  brows  was  like  the  vein  in  the  tulip's 
heart,  and  the  lashes  shaded  the  blushes  on  her  cheek.  With  the 
delicacy  of  a  pale  rose,  her  complexion  put  to  shame  the  floating 
light  of  day.  Her  waist,  like  a  thread  in  fineness,  seemed  ready 
to  break  ;  yet  was  it  straight  and  erect,  and  feared  not  the  fan 
ning  breeze  ;  and  her  shadowy  grace  was  as  difficult  to  delineate, 
as  the  form  of  the  white  bird  rising  from  the  ground  by  moon 
light.  The  natural  gloss  of  her  hair  resembled  the  uncertain 
sheen  of  calm  water,  yet  without  the  false  aid  of  unguents.  The 
native  intelligence  of  her  mind  seemed  to  have  gained  strength 
by  retirement,  and  he  who  beheld  her,  thought  not  of  her  as  hu 
man.  Of  rare  beauty,  of  rarer  intellect  was  Teh-leen,  and  her 
heart  responded  to  the  poet's  lute." 

We  have  not  space,  nor  could  we,  without  copying  directly 
from  the  admired  Le-pih,  venture  to  describe  the  bringing  of 
Teh-leen  to  court,  and  her  surprise  at  finding  herself  the  favorite 
of  the  emperor.  It  is  a  romantic  circumstance,  besides,  which 
has  had  its  parallels  in  other  countries.  But  the  sad  sequel  to 
the  loves  of  poor  Teh-leen  is  but  recorded  in  the  cold  page  of  his 
tory  ;  and  if  the  poet,  who  wound  up  the  climax  of  her  perfec 
tions,  with  her  susceptibility  to  his  lute,  embalmed  her  sorrows  in 


184  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


verse,  he  was  probably  too  politic  to  ftring  it  ever  to  li^ht.  Pass 
we  to  these  neglected  and  unadorned  passages  of  her  history. 

Yuentsoong's  nature  was  passionately  devoted  and  confiding ; 
and,  like  two  brothers  with  one  favorite  sister,  lived  together 
Teh-leen,  Szema,  and  the  emperor.  The  Tartar  prince,  if  his 
heart  knew  a  mistress  before  the  arrival  of  T^h-leen  at  the  palace, 
owned  afterward  no  other  than  her ;  and  fearless  of  check  or  sus 
picion  from  the  noble  confidence  and  generous  friendship  of 
Yuentsoong,  he  seemed  to  live  but  for  her  service,  and  to  have 
neither  energies  nor  ambition  except  for  the  winning  of  her 
smiles.  Szema  was  of  great  personal  beauty,  frank  when  it  did 
not  serve  him  to  be  wily,  bold  in  his  pleasures,  and  of  manners 
almost  femininely  soft  and  voluptuous.  He  was  renowned  as  a 
soldier,  and  for  Teh-leen,  he  became  a  poet  and  master  of  the 
lute  ;  and,  like  all  men  formed  for  ensnaring  the  heart  of  women, 
he  seemed  to  forget  himself  in  the  absorbing  devotion  of  his  idol 
atry.  His  friend,  the  emperor,  was  of  another  mould.  Yuent- 
Boong's  heart  had  three  chambers — love,  friendship,  and  glory. 
Teh-leen  was  but  a  third  in  his  existence,  yet  he  loved  her — the 
sequel  will  show  how  well !  In  person  he  was  less  beautiful  than 
majestic,  of  large  stature,  and  with  a  brow  and  lip  naturally  stern 
and  lofty.  He  seldom  smiled,  even  upon  Teh-leen,  whom  he 
would  watch  for  hours  in  pensive  and  absorbed  delight ;  but  his 
euiile,  when  it  did  awake,  broke  over  his  sad  countenance  like 
morning.  All  men  loved  and  honored  Yuentsoong,  and- all  men, 
except  only  the  emperor,  looked  on  Szema  with  antipathy.  To 
such  natures  as  the  former,  women  give  all  honor  and  approba 
tion  ;  but  for  such  as  the  latter,  they  reserve  their  weakness ! 

Wrapt  up  in  his  friend  and  mistress,  and  reserved  in  his  inter 
course  with  his  counsellors,  Yuentsoong  knew  not  that,  through- 


THE  INLET  OF  PEACH-BLOSSOMS.  185 


out  the  imperial  city,  Szema  .was  called  "  the,  kieu,"  or  robber- 
bird,  and  his  fair  Teh-leen  openly  charged  with  dishonor.  Go 
ing  out  alone  to  hunt  as  was  his  custom,  and  having  left  his  signet 
with  Szema,  to  pass  and  repass  through  the  private  apartments  at  his 
pleasure,  his  horse  fell  with  him  unaccountably  in  the  open  field. 
Somewhat  superstitious,  and  remembering  that  good  spirits  some 
times  "  knit  the  grass,"  when  other  obstacles  fail  to  bar  our  way 
into  danger,  the  emperor  drew  rein  and  returned  to  his  palace.  It 
was  an  hour  after  noon,  and  having  dismissed  his  attendants  at 
the  city  gate,  he  entered  by  a  postern  to  the  imperial  garden,  and 
bethought  himself  of  the  concealed  couch  in  a  cool  grot  by  a 
fountain  (a  favorite  retreat,  sacred  to  himself  and  Teh-leen), 
where  he  fancied  it  would  be  refreshing  to  sleep  away  the  sultri 
ness  of  the  remaining  hours  till  evening.  Sitting  down  by  the 
side  of  the  murmuring  fount,  he  bathed  his  feet,  and  left  his  slip 
pers  on  the  lip  of  the  basin  to  be  unencumbered  in  his  jepose 
within,  and  so  with  unechoing  step  entered  the  resounding  grotto. 
Alas  !  there  slumbered  the  faithless  friend  with  the  guilty  Teh- 
leen  upon  his  bosom  ! 

Grief  struck  through  the  noble  heart  of  the  emperor  like  a 
sword  in  cold  blood.  With  a  word  he  could  consign  to  torture 
and  death  the  robber  of  his  honor,  but  there  was  agony  in  his 
bosom  deeper  than  levenge.  He  turned  silently  away,  recalled 
his  horse  and  huntsmen,  and,  outstripping  all,  plunged  on 
through  the  forest  till  night  gathered  around  him. 

Yuentsoong  had  been  absent  many  days  from  his  capitol,  and 
his  subjects  were  murmuring  their  fears  for  his  safety,  when 
a  messenger  arrived  to  the  counsellors,  informing  them  of  the  ap 
pointment  of  the  captive  Tartar  prince  to  the  government  of  the 
province  of  Szechuen,  the  second  honor  of  the  Celestial  empire. 


186  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


A  private  order  accompanied  the  announcement,  commanding  the 
immediate  departure  of  Szema  for  the  scene  of  his  new  authority. 
Inexplicable  as  was  this  riddle  to  the  multitude,  there  were  those 
who  read  it  truly  by  their  knowledge  of  the  magnanimous  soul  of 
the  emperor  ;  and  among  these  was  the  crafty  object  of  his  gen 
erosity.  Losing  no  time,  he  set  forward  with  great  pomp  for 
Szechuen,  and  in  their  joy  to  see  him  no  more  at  the  palace,  the 
slighted  princes  of  the  empire  forgave  his  unmerited  advancement. 
Yuentsoong  returned  to  his  capitol ;  but  to  the  terror  of  his 
counsellors  and  people,  his  hair  was  blanched  white  as  the  head 
of  an  old  man !  He  was  pale  as  well,  but  he  was  cheerful  and 
kind  beyond  his  wont,  and  to  Teh-leen  untiring  in  pensive  and 
humble  attentions.  He  pleaded  only  impaired  health  and  rest 
less  slumbers  as  an  apology  for  nights  of  solitude.  Once,  Teh- 
leen  penetrated  to  his  lonely  chamber,  but  by  the  dim  night-lamp 
she  saw  that  the  scroll  over  her  window*  was  changed,  and 
instead  of  the  stimulus  to  glory  which  formerly  hung  in  golden 
letters  before  his  eyes,  there  was  a  sentence  written  tremblingly 
in  black : — 

"The  close  wing  of  love  covers  the  death-throb  of  honor." 

Six  months  from  this  period  the  capital  was  thrown  into  a 
tumult  with  the  intelligence  that  the  province  of  Szechueu  was  in 
rebellion,  and  Szema  at  the  head  of  a  numerous  army  on  his  way 

*  The  most  common  decorations  of  rooms,  halls  and  temples,  in  China,  are 
ornamental  scrolls  or  labels  of  colored  paper,  or  wood  painted  and  gilded,  and 
hung  over  doors  or  windows,  and  inscribed  with  a  line  or  couplet  conveying 
some  allusion  to  the  circumstances  of  the  inhabitant,  or  some  pious  or  philo 
sophical  axiom.  For  instance,  a  poetical  one  recorded  by  Dr.  Morrison  : — 

"  From  the  pino  forest  the  azote  dragon  ascends  to  the  milky  way," 
typical  of  the  prosperous  man  arising  to  wealth  and  honors. 


THE  INLET  OF  PEACH-BLOSSOMS.  137 

to  seize  the  throne  of  Yuentsoong.  This  last  sting  betrayed  the 
serpent  even  to  the  forgiving  emperor,  and  tearing  the  reptile  at 
last  from  his  heart,  he  entered  with  the  spirit  of  other  times  into 
the  warlike  preparations.  The  imperial  army  was  in  a  few  days 
on  its  march,  and  at  Keo-yang  the  opposing  forces  met  and  pre 
pared  for  encounter. 

With  a  dread  of  the  popular  feeling  towards  Teh-leen,  Yuent 
soong  had  commanded  for  her  a  close  litter,  and  she  was  borne 
after  the  imperial  standard  in  the  centre  of  the  army.  On  the 
eve  before  the  battle,  ere  the  watch-fires  were  lit,  the  emperor 
came  to  her  tent,  set  apart  from  his  own,  and  with  the  delicate 
care  and  kind  gentleness  from  which  he  never  varied,  inquired 
how  her  wants  were  supplied,  and  bade  her,  thus  early,  farewell 
for  the  night  ;  his  own  custom  of  passing  among  his  soldiers  on 
the  evening  previous  to  an  engagement,  promising  to  interfere 
with  what  was  usually  his  last  duty  before  retiring  to  his  couch. 
Teh-leen  on  this  occasion  seemed  moved  by  some  irrepressible 
emotion,  and  as  he  rose  to  depart,  she  fell  forward  upon  her  face, 
and  bathed  his  feet  with  her  tears.  Attributing  it  to  one  of  those 
excesses  of  feeling  to  which  all,  but  especially  hearts  ill  at  ease, 
are  liable,  the  noble  monarch  gently  raised  her,  and,  with  repeat 
ed  efforts  at  reassurance,  committed  her  to  the  hands  of  her 
women.  His  own  heart  beat  far  from  tranquilly,  for,  in  the 
excess  of  his  pity  for  her  grief  he  had  unguardedly  called  her^  by 
one  of  the  sweet  names  of  their  early  days  of  love — strange  word 
now  upon  his  lip — and  it  brought  back,  spite  of  memory  and  truth, 
happiness  that  would  not  be  forgotten  ! 

It  was  past  midnight,  and  the  moon  was  riding  high  in  heaven, 
when  the  emperor,  returning  between  the  lengthening  watch-fires, 
sought  the  small  lamp  which,  suspended  like  a  star  above  his  own 


188  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


tent,  guided  him  back  from  the  irregular  mazes  of  the  camp. 
Paled  by  the  intense  radiance  of  the  moonlight,  the  small  globe 
of  alabaster  at  length  became  apparent  to  his  weary  eye,  and 
with  one  glance  at  the  peaceful  beauty  of  the  heavens,  he  parted 
the  curtained  door  beneath  it,  and  stood  within.  The  Chinese 
historian  asserts  that  a  bird,  from  whose  wing  Teh-leen  had 
once  plucked  an  arrow,  restoring  it  to  liberty  and  life,  and  in 
grateful  attachment  to  her  destiny,  removed  the  lamp  from  the 
imperial  tent,  and  suspended  it  over  hers.  The  emperor 
stood  beside  her  couch.  Startled  at  his 'inadvertent  error,  he 
turned  to  retire ;  but  the  lifted  curtain  let  in  a  flood  of  moon- 
liirht  upon  the  sleeping  features  of  Teh-leen,  and  like  dew-drops, 
the  undried  tears  glistened  in  her  silken  lashes.  A  lamp  burned 
faintly  in  the  inner  apartment  of  the  tent,  and  her  attendants 
slept  soundly.  His  soft  heart  gave  way.  Taking  up  the  lamp, 
he  held  it  over  his  beautiful  mistress,  and  once  more  gazed  pas 
sionately  and  unrestrainedly  on  her  unparalleled  beauty.  The 
past — the  early  past  was  alone  before  him.  He  forgave  her — 
there,  as  she  slept,  unconscious  of  the  throbbing  of  his  injured, 
but  noble  heart,  so  close  beside  her — he  forgave  her  in  the  long 
silent  abysses  of  his  soul  !  Unwilling  to  wake  her  from  her 
tranquil  slumber,  but  promising  to  himself,  from  that  hour,  such 
sweets  of  confiding  love  as  had  well  nigh  been  lost  to  him  for 
ever,  he  imprinted  one  kiss  upon  the  parted  lips  of  Teh-leen,  and 
sought  his  couch  for  slumber. 

Ere  daybreak  the  emperor  was  aroused  by  one  of  his  attend 
ants  with  news  too  important  for  delay.  Szema,  the  rebel,  had 
been  arrested  in  the  imperial  camp,  disguised,  and  on  his  vray 
back  to  his  own  forces,  and  like  wild-fire,  the  information  had 
spread  among  the  soldiery,  who  in  a  state  of  mutinous  excitement, 


THE  INLET  OF  PEACH-BLOSSOMS.  180 


were  with  difficulty  restrained  from  rushing  upon  the  tent  of  Teh- 
leen.  At  the  door  of  his  tent,  Yuentsoong  found  messengers 
from  the  alarmed  princes  and  officers  of  the  different  commands, 
imploring  immediate  aid  and  the  imperial  presence  to  allay  the 
excitement,  and  while  the  emperor  prepared  to  mount  his  horse, 
the  guard  arrived  with  the  Tartar  prince,  ignominiously  tied,  and 
bearing  marks  of  rough  usage  from  his  indignant  captors. 

*'  Loose  him  !"  cried  the  emperor,  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 

The  cords  were  severed,  and  with  a  glance  whose  ferocity  ex 
pressed  no  thanks,  Szema  reared  himself  up  to  his  fullest  height, 
and  looked  scornfully  around  him.  Daylight  had  now  broke, 
and  as  the  group  stood  upon  an  eminence  in  sight  of  the  whole 
army,  shouts  began  to  ascend,  and  the  armed  multitude,  breaking 
through  all  restraint,  rolled  in  toward  the  centre.  Attracted  by 
the  commotion,  Yuentsoong  turned  to  give  some  orders  to  those 
near  him,  when  Szema  suddenly  sprung  upon  an  officer  of  the 
guard,  wrenched  his  drawn  sword  from  his  grasp,  and  in  an 
instant  was  lost  to  sight  in  the  tent  of  Teh-leen.  A  sharp 
scream,  a  second  of  thought,  and  forth  again  rushed  the  despe 
rate  murderer,  with  his  sword  flifaging  drops  of  blood,  and  ere  a 
foot  stirred  in  the  paralyzed  group,  the  avenging  cimeter  of 
Yuentsoong  had  cleft  him  to  the  chin. 

A  hush,  as  if  the  whole  army  was  struck  dumb  by  a  bolt  from 
heaven,  followed  this  rapid  tragedy.  Dropping  the  polluted 
sword  from  his  hand,  the  emperor,  with  uncertain  step,  and  the 
pallor  of  death  upon  his  countenance,  entered  the  fatal  tent. 

He  came  no  more  forth  that  day.  The  army  was  marshalled 
by  the  princes,  and  the  rebels  were  routed  with  great  slaughter  ; 
but  Yuentsoong  never  more  wielded  sword.  ''  He  pined  to 
death,"  says  the  historian,  "  with  the  wane  of  the  same  moon 
that  shone  upon  the  forgiveness  of  Teh-leen." 


THE  BELLE  OF  THE  BELFRY; 


OR,  THE    DARING   LOVER. 


A  GRISETTE  is  something  else  beside  a  "  mean  girl"  or  a  "gray 
gown,"  the  French  dictionary  to-  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 
Bless  me  !  you  should  see  the  grisettes  of  Rochepot !  And  if 
you  wished  to  take  a  lesson  in  political  compacts,  you  should  un 
derstand  the  grisette  confederacy  of  Rochepot !  They  were 
working-girls,  it  is  true — dressmakers,  milliners,  shoebinders, 
tailoresses,  flowermakers,  embroideresses — and  they  never  expect 
ed  to  be  anything  more  aristocratic.  And  in  that  content  lay 
their  power. 

The  grisettes  of  Rochepot  were  a  good  fourth  of  the  female 
population.  They  had  their  jealousies,  and  little  scandals,  and 
heart-burnings,  and  plottings,  and  counterplottings  (for  they  were 
women)  among  themselves.  But  they  made  common  cause 
against  the  enemy.  1  hey  would  bear  no  disparagement.  They 
knew  exactly  what  was  due  to  them,  and  what  was  due  to  their 
superiors,  and  they  paid  and  gave  credit  in  the  coin  of  good- 
manners,  as  cannot  be  done  in  countries  of  "  liberty  and  equality." 
Still  there  were  little  shades  of  difference  in  the  attention  shown 
them  by  their  employers,  and  they  worked  twice  as  much  in  a  day 


THE  BELLE  OF  THE  BELFRY. 


when  sewing  for  Madame  Durozcl,  who  took  her  dinner  with  them, 
sans  fafon  in  the  work-room,  as  for  old  Madame  Chiquette,  who 
dined  all  alone  in  her  grand  saloon,  and  left  them  to  eat  by  them 
selves  among  their  shreds  and  scissors.  But  these  were  not  slights 
which  they  seriously  resented.  Woe  only  to  the  incautious  dame 
who  dared  to  scandalize  one  of  their  number,  or  dispute  her  dues, 
or  encroach  upon  her  privileges  !  They  would  make  Rochepot  as 
uncomfortable  for  her,  parlleu. !  as  a  kettle  to  a  slow-boiled  lob 
ster. 

But  tH£  prettiest  grisette  of  Rochepot  was  not  often  permitted 
to  join  her  companions  in  their  self-chaperoned  excursions  on  the 
holydays.  Old  dame  Pomponney  was  the  sexton's  widow,  and 
she  had  the  care  of  the  great  clock  of  St.  Roch,  and  of  one  only 
daughter;  and  excellent  care  she  took  of  both  her  charges. 
They  lived  all  three  in  the  belfry — dame,  clock,  and  daugh 
ter — and  it  was  a  bright  day  for  Thenais  when  she  got  out  of 
hearing  of  that  tl  tick,  tick,  tick,"  and  of  the  thumping  of  her 
mother's  cane  on  the  long  staircase,  which  always  kept  time  with  it. 

Not  that  old  Dame  Pomponney  had  any  objection  to  have  her 
daughter  convenably  married.  She  had  been  deceived  in  her 
youth  (or  so  it  was  whispered)  by  a  lover  above  her  condition, 
and  she  vowed  by  the  cross  on  her  cane,  that  her  daughter  should 
have  no  sweetheart  above  a  journeyman  mechanic.  Now  the 
romance  of  the  grisettes  (parlous  las  !)  was  to  have  one  charm 
ing  little  flirtation  with  a  gentleman  before  they  married  the 
leather-apron — just  to  show  that,  had  they  by  chance  been  born 
ladies,  they  could  have  played  their  part  to  the  taste  of  their 
lords.  But  it  was  at  this  game  that  Dame  Pomponney  had  burnt 
her  fingers,  and  she  had  this  one  subject  for  the  exercise  of  her 
powers  of  mortal  aversion. 


1«J2  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


When  I  Lave  added  that,  four  miles  from  Rochepot,  stood 
the  Chateau  de  Brevanne,  and  that  the  old  Count  de  Brevanne 
was  a  proud  aristocrat  of  the  ancien  regimf,  with  one  son,  the 
young  Count  Felix,  whom  he  had  educated  at  Paris,  I  think  I 
have  prepared  you  tolerably  for  the  little  romance  I  have  to  tell 
you. 

It  was  a  fine  Sunday  morning  that  a  mounted  hussar  appeared 
in  the  street  of  Rochepot.  The  grisettes  were  all  abroad  in  their 
holyday  paru re,  and  the  gay  soldier  soon  made  an  acquaintance 
with  one  of  them  at  the  door  of  the  inn,  and  informed  her  that  he 
had  been  sent  on  to  prepare  the  old  barracks  for  his  troop.  The 
hussars  were  to  be  quartered  a  month  at  Rochepot.  Ah  !  what 
a  joyous  bit  of  news  !  And  six  officers  beside  the  colonel !  And 
the  trumpeters  were  miracles  at  playing  quadrilles  and  waltzes  ! 
And  not  a  plain  man  in  the  regiment — except  always  the  speaker. 
And  none,  except  the  old  colonel,  had  ever  been  in  love  in  his 
life.  But  as  this  last  fact  required  to  be  sworn  to,  of  course  he 
was  ready  to  kiss  the  book — or,  in  the  absence  of  the  book,  the 
next  most  sacred  object  of  his  adoration. 

"  Finissez  done,  Monsieur  !"  exclaimed  his  pretty  listener,  and 
away  she  ran  to  spread  the  welcome  intelligence  with  its  delight 
ful  particulars. 

The  next  day  the  troop  rode  into  Rochepot,  and  formed  in  the 
great  square  in  front  of  St.  Roch  ;  and  by  the  time  the  trumpeters 
had  played  themselves  red  in  the  face,  the  hussars  were  all  ap 
propriated,  to  a  man — for  the  grisettes  knew  enough  of  a  march 
ing  regiment  to  lose  no  time.  They  all  found  leisure  to  pity  poor 
TL^nais,  however,  for  there  she  stood  in  one  of  the  high  windows 
of  the  belfry,  looking  down  on  the  gay  crowd  below,  and  they 
knew  very  well  that  old  Dame  Pomponney  had  declared  all 


THE  BELLE  OF  THE  BELFRY.          193 


soldiers  to  be  gay  deceivers,  and  forbidden  her  daughter  to  stir 
into  the  street  while  they  were  quartered  at  Rochepot. 

Of  course  the  grisettes  managed  to  agree  as  to  each  other's  se 
lection  of  a  sweetheart  from  the  troop,  and  of  course  each  hussar 
thankfully  accepted  the  pair  of  eyes  that  fell  to  him.  For,  aside 
from  the  limited  duration  of  their  stay,  soldiers  are  philosophers, 
and  know  that  "  life  is  short,"  and  it  is  better  "  to  take  the  goods 
"  the  gods  provide."  But  "  after  everybody  was  helped,"  as  they 
say  at  a  feast,  there  appeared  another  short  jacket  and  foraging 
cap,  very  much  to  the  relief  of  red-headed  Susette,  the  shoebind- 
er,  who  had  •  been  left  out  in  the  previous  allotment.  And 
Susette  made  the  amiable  accordingly,  but  to  no  purpose,  for  the 
lad  seemed  an  idiot  with  but  one  idea — looking  for  ever  at 
St.  Roch's  clock  to  know  the  time  of  day  !  The  grisettes 
laughed  and  asked  their  sweethearts  his  name,  but  they  signifi- 
«antly  pointed  to  their  foreheads  and  whispered  something  about 
poor  Robertin's  being  a  privileged  follower  of  the  regiment  and  a 
protege  of  the  colonel. 

Well,  the  grisettes  flirted,  and  the  old  clock  at  St.  Roch 
ticked  on,  and  Susette  and  Thenais,  the  plainest  and  the  prettiest 
girl  in  the  village,  seemed  the  only  two  who  were  left  out  in  the 
extra  dispensation  of  lovers.  And  poor  Robertin  still  persisted 
in  occupying  most  of  his  leisure  with  watching  the  time  of  day. 

It  was  on  the  Sunday  morning  after  the  arrival  of  the  troop 
that  old  Dame  Pomponney  went  up.  as  usual,  to  do  her  Sunday's 
duty  in  winding  up  the  clock.  She  had  previously  locked  the 
belfry  door  to  be  sure  that  no  one  entered  below  while  she  was 
above  ;  but — the  Virgin  help  us  ! — on  the  top  stair,  gazing  into 
the  machinery  of  the  clock  with  absorbed  attention,  sat  one  of 
those  devils  of  hussars  !  "  Thief,"  "  vagabond,"  and  "  house- 
9 


191  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

breaker,"  were  the  most  moderate  epithets  with  which  Dame 
Pomponney  accompanied  the  enraged  beating  of  her  stick  on  the 
resounding  platform.  She  was  almost  beside  herself  with  rage. 
And  Thenais  had  been  up  to  dust  the  wheels  of  the  clock  !  And 
Low  did  she  know  that  that  scelerat  of  a  trooper  was  not  there 
all  the  time  ! 

But  the  intruder,  whose  face  had  been  concealed  till  now, 
turned  suddenly  round  and  began  to  gibber  and  grin  like  a  pos 
sessed  monkey.  He  pointed  at  the  clock,  imitated  the  "  tick, 
tick,  tick,"  laughed  till  the  big  bell  gave  out  an  echo  like  a  groan, 
and  then  suddenly  jumped  over  the  old  dame's  stick  and  ran  down 
Etairs. 

<; Eh,  Sainte  ViergeT1  exclaimed  the  old  dame,  "it's  a  poor 
idiot  after  all !  And  he  has  stolen  up  to  see  what  made  the  clock 
tick  !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Well ! — well !  I  cannot  come  up  these 
weary  stairs  twice  a  day,  and  I  must  wind  up  the  clock  before  I 
go  down  to  let  him  out  '  Tick,  tick,  tick  !' — poor  lad !  poor 
lad !  They  must  have  dressed  him  up  to  make  fun  of  him — 
those  vicious  troopers  !  Well ! — well !'' 

And  with. pity  in  her  heart,  Dame  Pomponney  hobbled  down, 
stair  after  stair,  to  her  chamber  in  the  square  turret  of  the  belfry, 
and  there  she  found  the  poor  idiot  on  his  knees  before  Thenais, 
and  Thenais  was  just  preparing  to  put  a  skein  of  thread  over  his 
thumbs,  for  she  thought  she  might  make  him  useful  and  amuse 
him  with  the  winding  of  it  till  her  mother  came  down.  But  as 
the  thread  got  vexatiously  entangled,  and  the  poor  lad  sat  as  pa 
tiently  as  a  wooden  reel,  and  it  was  time  to  go  below  to  mass,  the 
dame  thought  she  might  as  well  leave  him  there  till  she  came 
back,  and  down  she  stumped,  locking  the  door  very  safely  behind 
her. 


THE  BELLE  OF  THE  BELFRY  195 


Poor  Thenais  was  very  lonely  in  the  belfry,  and  Dame  Pom- 
ponney,  who  had  a  tender  heart  where  her  duty  was  not  involved, 
rather  rejoiced  when  she  returned,  to  find  an  unusual  glow  of  de 
light  on  her  daughter's  cheek  ;  and  if  Thenais  could  find  so  much 
pleasure  in  the  society  of  a  poor  idiot  lad,  it  was  a  sign,  too,  that 
her  heart  was  not  gone  altogether  after  those  abominable  troop- 
-ers.  It  was  time  to  send  the  innocent  youth  about  his  business, 
however,  so  she  gave  him  a  holyday  cake  and  led  him  down  stairs 
and  dismissed  him  with  a  pat  on  his  back  and  a  strict  injunction 
never  to  venture  again  up  to  the  u  tick,  tick,  tick."  But  as  she 
had  had  a  lesson  as  to  the  accessibility  of  her  bird's  nest,  she 
determined  thenceforth  to  lock  the  door  invariably  and  carry  the 
key  in  her  pocket. 

While  poor  Robertin  was  occupied  with  his  researches  into 
the  "  tick,  tick,  tick,"  never  absent  a  day  from  the  neighborhood 
of  the  tower,  the  more  fortunate  hussars  were  planning  to  give 
the  grisettes  aftte  c/uimpetre.  One  of  the  saints'  days  was  com 
ing  round,  and,  the  weather  permitting,  all  the  vehicles  of  the 
village  were  to  be  levied,  and,  with  the  troop-horses  in  harness, 
they  were  to  drive  to  a  small  wooded  valley  in  the,  neighborhood 
of  the  chateau  de  Brevanne,  where  seclusion  and  a  mossy  carpet 
of  grass  were  combined  in  a  little  paradise  for  such  enjoyment. 

The  morning  of  this  merry  day  dawned,  at  last,  and  the  gri 
settes  and  theirad  mirers  were  stirring  betimes,  for  they  were  to 
breakfast  sur  F/ierbe,  and  they  were  not  the  people  to  turn  break 
fast  into  dinner.  The  sky  was  clear,  and  the  dew  was  not  very 
heavy  on  the  grass,  and  merrily  the  vehicles  rattled  about  the 
town,  picking  up  their  fair  freights  from  its  obscurest  corners. 
But  poor  Thenais  looked  out,  a  sad  prisoner,  from  her  high  win 
dow  in  the  belfry. 


196  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


It  was  a  half  hour  after  sunrise   and  Dame   Pompouney  was 
creeping  up  stairs  after  her  matins,  thanking  Heaven  that  she 
had  been  firm  in  her  refusals — at  least  twenty  of  the  grisettes 
having  gathered  about  her,  and  pleaded  for  a  day's  freedom  for 
her  imprisoned  daughter.     She  rested  on  the  last  landing  but  one 
to  take  a  little  breath — but  hark ! — a  man's  voice  talking  in  the 
belfry  !     She  listened  again,  and  quietly  slipped  her  feet  out  of 
her  high-heeled  shoes.     The  voice  was  again  audible — yet  how 
could  it  be  !     She  knew  that  no  one  could  have  passed    up  the 
stair,  for  the  key  had  been  kept  in  her  pocket  more  carefully 
than  usual,  and,  save  by  the  wings  of  one  of  her  own  pigeons, 
the  belfry  window  was  inaccessible,  she  was  sure.     Still  the  voice 
went  ou  in  a  kind  of  pleading  murmur,  and  the  dame  stole  softly 
up  in   her  stockings,  and   noiselessly  opened  the   door.     There 
stood   Thenais  at  the  window,  but  she  was  alone  in  the  room. 
At  the  same  instant  the  voice  was  heard  again,  and  sure  now 
that  one  of  those  desperate  hussars  had  climbed  th§  tower,  and 
unable  to  control  her  rage  at  the  audacity  of  the  attempt,  Dame 
Pomponney  clutched  her  cane  and  rushed  forward  to  aim  a  blow 
at  the  militajy  cap  now  visible  at  the  sill  of  the  window.     But 
at  the  same  instant  the  head  of  the  intruder  was  thrown  back, 
and   the  gibbering  and  idiotic  smile  of  poor  Robertin  checked 
her   blow  in   its   descent,  and   turned   all    her  anger   into   pity. 
Poor,  silly  lad  !   he  had  contrived  to  draw  up  the  garden  ladder 
and  place  it  upon  the  roof  of  the  stone  porch  below,  to  climb 
and  offer  a  flower  to  Thenais  !     Not  unwilling  to  have  her  daugh 
ter's  mind  occupied  with  some  other  thought  than  the  forbidden 
excursion,  the  dame  offered  her  hand  to  Robertin  and  drew  him 
gently  in  at  the  window.     And  as  it  was  now  market-time  she 


THE  BELLE  OF  THE  BELFRY.          197 


bid  Thenais  be  kind  to  the  poor  boy,  and  locking  the  door  behind 
her,  trudged  contentedly  off  with  her  stick  and  basket. 

I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  record  an  act  of  filial  disobedience 
in  the  heroine  of  my  story.  An  hour  after,  Thenais  was  wel 
comed  with  acclamations  as  she  suddenly  appeared  with  Robertin 
in  the  midst  of  the  merry  party  of  grisettes.  With  Robertin — 
not  as  he  had  hitherto  been  seen,  his  cap  on  the  back  of  his  head 
and  his  under  lip  hanging  loose  like  an  idiot's — but  with  Robertin, 
gallant,  spirited,  and  gay,  the  handsomest  of  hussars,  and  the 
most  joyous  of  companions.  And  Thenais,  spite  of  her  hasty 
toilet  and  the  cloud  of  conscious  disobedience  which  now  and  then 
shaded  her  sweet  smile,  was,  by  many  degrees,  the  belle  of  the 
hour ;  and  the  palm  of  beauty,  for  once  in  the  world  at  least, 
was  yielded  without  envy.  The  grisettes  dearly  love  a  bit  of 
romance,  too,  and  the  circumventing  of  old  Dame  Pomponney  by 
his  ruse  of  idiocy,  and  the  safe  extrication  of  the  prettiest  girl  of 
the  village  from  that  gloomy  old  tower,  was  quite  enough  to  make 
Robertin  a  hero,  and  his  sweetheart  Thenais  more  interesting 
than  a  persecuted  princess. 

And,  seated  on  the  ground  while  their  glittering  cavaliers 
served  them  with  breakfast,  the  light-hearted  grisettes  of  Rochepot 
were  happy  enough  to  be  envied  by  their  betters.  But  suddenly 
the  sky  darkened,  and  a  slight  gust  murmuring  among  the  trees, 
announced  the  coming  up  of  a  summer  storm.  Sauve  qui  peut ! 
The  soldiers  were  used  to  emergencies,  and  they  had  packed  up 
and  reloaded  their  cars  and  were  under  way  for  shelter  almost  as 
soon  as  the  grisettes,  and  away  they  all  fled  toward  the  nearest 
grange — one  of  the  dependencies  of  the  chateau  de  Brevanne. 

But  Robertin,  now,  had  suddenly  become  the  director  and  rul 
ing  spirit  of  the  festivities.  The  soldiers  treated  him  with  in- 


198  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


stinctive  deference,  the  old  farmer  of  the  grange  hurried  out  with 
his  keys  and  unlocked  the  great  storehouse,  and  disposed  of  the 
horses  under  shelter ;  and  by  the  time  the  big  drops  began  to 
fall,  the  party  were  dancing  gayly  and  securely  on  the  dry  and 
smooth  thrashing-floor,  and  the  merry  harmony  of  the  martial 
trumpets  and  horns  rang  out  far  and  wide  through  the  gathering 
tempest. 

The  rain  began  to  come  down  yery  heavily,  and  the  clatter  of 
a  horse's  feet  in  a  rapid  gallop  was  heard  in  one  of  the  pauses  in 
the  waltz.  Some  one  seeking  shelter,  no  doubt.  On  went  the 
bewitching  music  again,  and  at  this  moment  two  or  three  couples 
ceased  waltzing,  and  the  floor  was  left  to  Robertin  and  Thenais, 
whose  graceful  motions  drew  all  eyes  upon  them  in  admiration. 
Smiling  in  each  other's  faces,  and  wholly  unconscious  of  any 
other  presence  than  their  own,  they  whirled  blissfully  around — 
but  there  was  now  another  spectator.  The  horseman  who  had 
bee,n  heard  to  approach,  had  silently  joined  the  party,  and  mak 
ing  a  courteous  gesture  to  signify  that  the  dancing  was  not  to  be 
interrupted,  he  smiled  back  the  courtesies  of  the  pretty  grisettes 
— for,  aristocratic  as  he  was,  he  was  a  polite  man  to  the  sex,  was 
the^  Count  de  Brevanne. 

"  Felix  !"  he  suddenly  cried  out,  in  a  tone  of  surprise  and  an 
ger. 

The  music  stopped  at  that  imperative  call,  and  Robertin  turn 
ed  his  eyes,  astonished,  in  the  direction  from  which  it  came. 

The  name  was  repeated  from  lip  to  lip  among  the  erisettes, 
"  Felix  !"  "  Count  Felix  de  Brevanne  !" 

But  without  deigning  another  word,  the  old  man  pointed  with 
his  riding-whip  to  the  farm-house.  The  disguised  count  respect- 


THE  BELLE  OF  THE  BELFRt.  199 


fully  bowed  his  head,  but  held  Thenais  by  the  hand  and  drew  her 
gently  with  him. 

"  Leave  her  !  disobedient  boy  !"  exclaimed  the  father. 
But  as  Count  Felix  tightened  his  hold  upon  the  small  hand  he 
held,  and  Thenais  tried  to  shrink  back  from  the  advancing  old 
man,  old  Dame  Pomponney,  streaming  with  rain,  broke  in  unex 
pectedly  upon  the  scene. 

"  Disgrace  not  your  blood,"  said  the  Count  de  Brevanne  at  that 
moment. 

The  offending  couple  stood  alone  in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  and 
the  dame  comprehended  that  her  daughter  was  disparaged. 

"  And  who  is  disgraced  by  dancing  with  my  daughter  :"  she 
screamed  with  furious  gesticulation. 

The  old  noble  made  no  answer,  but  the  grisettes,  in  an  under 
tone,  murmured  the  name  of  Count  Felix  ! 

"  Is  it  he — the  changeling  !  the  son  of  a  poor  gardener,  that  is 
disgraced  by  the  touch  of  my  daughter  r" 

A  dead  silence  followed  this  astounding  exclamation.  The  old 
dame  had  forgotten  herself  in  her  rage,  and  she  looked  about 
with  a  terrified  bewilderment — but  the  mischief  was  done.  The 
old  man  stood  aghast.  Count  Felix  clung  still  closer  to  Thenais, 
but  his  face  expressed  the  most  eager  inquisitiveness.  The  gri 
settes  gathered  around  Dame  Pomponney,  and  the  old  count,  left 
standing  and  alone,  suddenly  drew  his  cloak  about  him  and  step 
ped  forth  into  the  rain ;  and  in  another  moment  his  horse's  feet 
were  heard  clattering  away  in  the  direction  of  the  chateau  de 
Brevanne. 

We  have  but  to  tell  the  sequol. 

The  incautious  revelation  of  the  old  dame  turned  out  to  be 
true.  The  dying  infant  daughter  of  the  Marchioness  de  Brevanne 


:?!10  FUN  JOTTINGS. 

had  been  changed  for  the  healthy  son  of  the  count's  gardener,  to 
secure  an  heir  to  the  name  and  estates  of  the  nearly  extinct  fam 
ily  of  Brevanne.  Dame  Pomponney  had  assisted  in  this  secret, 
and  but  for  her  heart  full  of  rage  at  the  moment,  to  which  the 
old  count's  taunt  was  but  the  last  drop,  the  secret  would  probably 
have  never  been  revealed.  Count  Felix,  who  had  played  truant 
from  his  college  at  Paris,  to  come  and  hunt  up  some  of  his  child 
ish  playfellows,  in  disguise,  had  remembered  and  disclosed  him- 
polf  to  the  little  Thenais,  who  was  not  sorry  to  recognize  him, 
while  he  played  the  idiot  in  the  belfry.  .But  of  course  there  was 
now  no  obstacle  to  their  union,  and  united  they  were.  The  old 
count  pardoned  him,  and  gave  the  new  couple  a  portion  of  his 
estate,  and  they  named  their  first  child  Robertin,  as  was  natural 
enough. 


MOST  men  have  two  or  more  souls,  and  Jem  Thalimer  was  a 
doublet,  with  sets  of  manners  corresponding.  Indeed  one  identity 
could  never  have  served  the  pair  of  him  !  When  sad — that  is  to 
say,  when  in  disgrace  or  out  of  money — he  had  the  air  of  a  good 
man  with  a  broken  heart.  .When  gay — flush  in  pocket  and  hap 
py  in  his  little  ambitions — you  would  have  thought  Lim  a  danger 
ous  companion  for  his  grandmother.  The  last  impression  did 
him  more  injustice  than  the  first,  for  he  was  really  very  amiably 
disposed  when  depressed,  and  not  always  wicked  when  gay — but 
he  made  friends  in  both  characters.  People  seldom  forgive  us 
for  compelling  them  to  correct  their  first  impressions  of  us,  and  as 
this  was  uniformly  the  case  with  Jem,  whether  he  had  begfin  as 
saint  or  sinner,  he  was  commonly  reckoned  a  deep-water  fish  ; 
and  where  there  were  young  ladies  in  the  case,  early  warned  off 
the  premises.  The  remarkable  exception  to  this  rule,  in.  the  in 
cident  I  am  about  to  relate,  arose,  as  may  naturally  be  supposed, 
from  his  appearing,  during  a  certain  period,  in  one  character 
only. 

To  begin  my  story  fairly,  I  must  go  back  for  a  moment  to  our 
junior  Jem  in  college,  showing,  by  a  little  passage  in  our  adven- 
9* 


202  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


turcs,  how  Thalimer  and  I  became  acquainted  with  the  confiding 
gentleman  to  be  referred  to. 

A  college  suspension,  very  agreeably  timed,  in  June,  left  my 
friend  Jem  and  myself  masters  of  our  travels  for  an  uncertain 
period ;  and  as  our  purse  was  always  in  common,  like  our  shirts, 
love-letters,  and  disgraces,  our  several  borrowings  were  thrust 
into  a  wallet  which  was  sometimes  in  his  pocket,  sometimes  in 
mine,  as  each  took  the  turn  to  be  paymaster.  With  the  (inter 
cepted)  letters  in  our  pockets,  informing  the  governors  of  our  de 
graded  position,  we  travelled  very  prosperously  on — bound  to 
Niagara,  but  very  ready  to  fall  into  any  obliquity  by  the  way.  We 
arrived  at  Albany,  Thalimer  chancing  to  be  purser,  and  as  this 
function  tacitly  conferred  on  the  holder  all  other  responsibilities, 
I  made  myself  comfortable  at  the  hotel  for  the  second  day  and 
the  third — up  to  the  'seventh — rather  wondering  at  Jem's 
depressed  spirits  and  the  sudden  falling  off  of  his  enthusiasm  for 
Niagara,  but  content  to  stay,  if  he  liked,  and  amusing  myself  in 
the  side-hill  city  passably  well.  It  was  during  my  rambles  with 
out  him  in  this  week  that  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  bilious- 
looking  person,  lodging  at  the  same  hotel — a  Louisianian  on 
a  tour  of  health.  This  gentleman,  whom  he  introduced  to 
me  by  the  name  of  Dauchy,  seemed  to  have  formed  a  sudden 
attachment  to  my  friend,  and  as  Jem  had  a  "  secret  sorrow" 
unusual  to  him,  and  the  other  an  unusual  secretion  of  bile,  there 
was  of  course  between  them  that  "  secret  sympathy"  which  is  the 
basis  of  many  tender  friendships.  I  rather  liked  Mr.  Dauchy. 
He  seemed  one  of  those  chivalric,  polysyllabic  southerners,  inca 
pable  of  a  short  word  or  a  mean  action,  and,  interested  that  Jem 
should  retain  his  friendship,  I  was  not  sorry  to  find  our  departure 
follow  close  on  the  recovery  of  his  spirits. 


THE  FEMALE  WARD.  203 


We  went  on  toward  Niagara,  and  in  the  irresistible  confidence 
of  canal  travelling  I  made  out  the  secret  of  my  fidus  achates. 
He  had  attempted  to  alleviate  the  hardship  of  a  deck  passage 
for  a  bright-eyed  girl  on  board  the  steamer,  and,  on  going  below 
to  his  berth,  left  her  his  greatcoat  for  a  pillow.  The  stuffed 
wallet,  which  somewhat  distended  the  breast  pocket,  was  probably 
in  the  way  of  her  downy  cheek,  and  Jem  supposed  that  she 
simply  forgot  to  return  the  "  removed  deposite" — but  he  did  not 
miss  his  money  till  twelve  hours  after,  and  then  between  lack  of 
means  to  pursue  her,  and  shame  at  the  sentiment  he  had  wasted, 
tept  the  disaster  to  himself,  and  passed  a  melancholy  week  in 
devising  means  for  replenishing.  Through^this  penseroso  vein, 
however,  lay  his  way  out  of  the  difficulty,  for  he  thus  touched 
the  soul  and  funds  of  Mr.  Dauchy.  The  correspondence  (com 
menced  by  the  repayment  of  the  loan)  was  kept  up  stragglingly 
for  several  years,  bolstered  somewhat  by  barrels  of  marmalade, 
boxes  of  sugar,  hommony,  &c.,  till  finally  it  ended  in  the 
unlooked-for  consignment  which  forms  the  subject  of  my  story. 

Jem  and  myself  had  been  a  year  out  of  college,  and  were  pass 
ing  through  that  "  tight  place'1  in  life,  commonly  understood  in 
Now  England  as  "  the  going  in  at  the  little  end  of  the  horn.'' 
Expected  by  our  parents  to  take  to  money-making  like  ducks  to 
swimming,  deprived  at  once  of  college  allowance,  called  on  to  be 
men  because  our  education  was  paid  for,  and  frowned  upon  at 
every  manifestation  of  a  lingering  taste  for  pleasure — it  was  not 
surprising  that  we  sometimes  gave  tokens  of  feeling  "  crowded," 
and  obtained  somewhat  the  reputation  of  "  bad  subjects" — (using 
this  expressive  phrase  quite  literally).  Jem's  share  of  this  odor 
of  wickedness  was  much  the  greater,  bis  unlucky  deviltry  of 
countenance  doing  him  its  usual  disservice  ;  but  like  the  gentle- 


204  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


man  to  whom  he  was  attributed  as  a  favorite  protege,  he  was 
"  not  so  black  as  he  was  painted." 

We  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  find  one  believer  in  the  future 
culmination  of  our  clouded  stars — Gallagher,  "  mine  host" — and 
for  value  to  be  received  when  our  brains  should  fructify,  his  white 
soup  and  "  red-string  Madeira,"  his  game,  turtle,  and  all  the 
forthcomings  of  the  best  restaurant  of  our  epoch,  were  served 
lovingly  and  charged  moderately.  Peace  be  with  the  ashes  of 
William  Gallagher  !  "  The  brains  have  fructified,  and  "  the 
value"  has  been  received — but  his  name  and  memory  are  not 
11  filed  away  with  the  receipt ;  and  though  years  have  gone  over 
his  grave,  his  modest  welcome,  and  generous  dispensation  of 
entertainment  and  service,  are,  by  one  at  least  of  those  who  en 
joyed  them,  gratefully  and  freshly  remembered  ! 

We  were  to  dine  as  usual  at  Gallagher's  at  six — one  May  day 
which  I  well  remember.  I  was  just  addressing  myself  to  my 
day's  work,  when  Jem  broke  into  my  room  with  a  letter  in  his 
hand,  and  an  expression  on  his  face  of  mingled  embarrassment 

and  fear. 

i 

"  What  the  deuce  to  do  with  her  ?"  said  he,  handing  me  the 
letter. 

"  A  new  scrape,  Jem  ?"  I  asked,  as  I  looked  for  an  instant  at 
the  Dauchy  coat-of-arms  on  a  seal  as  big  as  a  dollar. 

"  Scrape  ? — yes,  it  is  a  scrape  ! — for  I  shall  never  get  out  of 
it  reputably.  What  a  dunce  old  Dauchy  must  be  to  send  me  a 
girl  to  educate  !  /  a  young  lady's  guardian  !  Why,  I  shall  be 
the  laugh  of  the  town  !  What  say  ?  Isn't  it  a  good  one  ?" 

I  had  been  carefully  perusing  the  letter  while  Thalimer  walked 
soliloquizing  about  the  room.  It  was  from  his  old  friend  of  mar 
malades  and  sugars,  and  in  the  most  confiding  and  grave  terms, 


THE   FEMALE   WARD.  205 


os  if  Jem  and  he  had  been  a  couple  of  contemporaneous  old 
bachelors,  it  consigned  to  his  guardianship  and  friendly  counsel, 
Miss  Adelmine  Lasacque,  the  only  daughter  of  a  neighboring 
planter  !  Mr.  Lasacque  having  no  friends  at  the  north,  had 
applied  to  Mr.  Dauchy  for  his  guidance  in  the  selection  of  a  pro 
per  person  to  superintend  her  education,  and  as  Thalimer  was 
the  only  correspondent  with  whom  Mr.  Dauchy  had  relations  of 
friendship,  and  was,  moreover,  "  fitted  admirably  for  the  trust  by 
his  impressive  and  dignified  address,"  (?)  he  had  "  taken  the 
liberty,"  &c.,  &o. 

"  Have  you  seen  her  ?"  I  asked,  after  a  long  laugh,  in  which 
Jem  joined  but  partially. 

"No,  indeed!  She  arrived  last  night  in  the  New  Orleans 
packet,  and  the  captain  brought  me  this  letter  at  daylight,  with 
the  young  lady's  compliments.  The  old  sea-dog  looked  a  little 
astounded  when  T  announced  myself.  Well  he  might,  faith  !  I 
don't  look  like  a  young  lady's  guardian,  do  I  ?" 

"  Well — you  are  to  go  on  board  and  fetch  her — is  that  it  ?" 

"  Fetch  her  !  Where  shall  I  fetch  her  ?  Who  is  to  take  a 
young  lady  of  my  fetching  ?  I  can't  find  a  female  academy  that 
I  can  approve "  ^ 

J  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter,  for  Jem  was  in  earnest  with  his 
scruples,  and  looked  the  picture  of  unhappiness. 

"  I  say  I  can't  find  one  in  a  minute — don't  laugh,  you  black 
guard  ; — and  where  to  lodge  her  meantime  ?  "What  should  T  say 
to  the  hotel-keepers  ?  They  all  know  me  1  It  looks  devilish 
odd,  let  me  tell  you,  to  bring  a  young  girl,  without  matron  or 
other  acquaintance  than  myself,  and  lodge  her  at  a  public 
house." 

"  Your  mother  must  take  your  charge  off  your  hands." 


206  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


"  Of  course,  that  was  the  first  thing  I  thought  of.  You  know 
my  mother  !  She  don't  half  believe  the  story,  in  the  first  place. 
If  there  is  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Dauchy,  she  says,  and  if  this  is  a 
*  Miss  Lasacque,'  all  the  way  from  Louisiana,  there  is  but  one 
thing  to  do — send  her  back  in  the  packet  she  came  in  !  She'll 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it !  There's  more  in  it  than  I  am  will 
ing  to  explain.  1  never  mentioned  this  Mr.  Dauchy  before, 
Mischief  will  come  of  it !  Abduction's  a  dreadful  thing !  If  I 
will  make  myself  notorious,  I  need  not  think  to  involve  my 
mother  and  sisters  !  That's  the  way  she  talks  about  it." 

"  But  couldn't  we  mollify  your  mother  ? — for,  after  all,  her 
countenance  in  the  matter  will  be  expected." 

"  Not  a  chance  of  it !  " 

"  The  money  part  of  it  is  all  right  ?  " 

"  Turn  the  letter  over.  Credit  for  a  large  amount  on  the  Robin 
sons,  payable  to  my  order  only  !  " 

"  Faith  !  its  a  very  hard  case  if  a  nice  girl  with  plenty  of 
money  can't  be  permitted  to  land  in  Boston  !  You  didn't  ask  the 
captain  if  she  was  pretty  ?  " 

*"  No,  indeed  !  But  pretty  or  plain,  I  must  get  her  ashore  and 
be  civil  to  her.  I  must  ask  her  to  dine  !  I  must  do  something 
besides  hand  her  over  to  a  boarding-school !  Will  you  come  down 
to  the  ship  with  me?" 

My  curiosity  was  quite  aroused,  and 'I  dressed  immediately. 
On  our  way  down  we  stopped  at  Gallagher's,  to  request  a  little 
embellishment  to  our  ordinary  dinner.  It  was  quite  clear,  for  a 
variety  of  reasons,  that  she  must  dine  with  her  guardian  there,  or 
nowhere.  Gallagher  looked  surprised,  to  say  the  least,  at  our 
proposition  to  bring  a  young  lady  to  dine  with  us,  but  he  made 


THE  FEMALE  WARD.  201 

no  comment  beyond  a  respectful  remark  that  "  No.  2  was  very 
private  ! " 

We  had  gone  but  a  few  steps  from  Devonshire  street  when  Jem 
stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  side-walk. 

"  We  have  not  decided  yet  what  we  are  to  do  with  Miss 
Lasacque  all  day,  nor  where  we  shall  send  her  baggage,  nor  where 
she  is  to  lodge  to-night.  For  Heaven's  sake,  suggest  something  !" 
added  Jem,  quite  out  of  temper. 

"  Why,  as  you  say,  it  would  be  heavy  work  to  walk  her  about 
the  streets  from  now  till  dinner-time — eight  hours  or  more  !  Gal 
lagher's  is  only  an  eating-house,  unluckily,  and  you  are  so  well 
known  at  all  the  hotels,  that,  to  take  her  to  one  of  them  without  a 
chaperon,  would,  to  say  the  least,  give  occasion  for  remark.  But 
here,  around  the  corner,  is  one  of  the  best  boarding-houses  in 
town,  kept  by  the  two  old  Misses  Smith.  You  might  offer  to  put 
her  under  their  protection.  Let's  try." 

The  Misses  Smith  were  a  couple  of  reduced  gentlewomen,  who 
charged  a  very  good  price  for  board  and  lodging,  and  piqued 
themselves  on  entertaining  only  very  good  company.  Begging 
Jem  to  assume  the  confident  tone  which  the  virtuous  character  of 
his  errand  required,  I  rang  at  the  door,  and  in  answer  to  our 
inquiry  for  the  ladies  of  the  house,  we  were  shown  into  the 
basement  parlor,  where  the  eldest  Miss  Smith  sat  with  her  spec 
tacles  on,  adding  new  vinegar  to  some  pots  of  pickles.  Our 
business  was  very  briefly  stated.  Miss  Smith  had  plenty  of  spare 
room.  Would  we  wait  a  moment  till  she  tied  on  the  covers  to 
her  pickle-jars  ? 

The  cordiality  of  the  venerable  demoiselle  evidently  put  Thal- 
imer  in  spirits.  He  gave  me  a  glance  which  said  very  plainly, 


208  FUN   JOTTINGS. 


"  You  see  we  needn't  have  troubled  our  heads  about  this !" — but 
the  sequel  was  to  come. 

Miss  Smith  led  the  way  to  the  second  story,  where  were  two 
very  comfortable  unoccupied  bed-rooms. 

"  A  single  lady  ?"  she  asked. 

'  Yes,"  said  Jem,  "  a  Miss  Lasacque,  of  Louisiana." 

"  Young,  did  you  say  ?" 

**  Seventeen,  or  thereabout,  I  fancy.  (This  was  a  guess,  but 
Jem  chose  to  appear  to  know  all  about  her.) 

"  And — ehem  ! — and — quite  alone  ?'' 

"  Quite  alone — she  is  come  here  to  go  to  school." 

"  Oh,  to  go  to  school !  Pray — will  she  pass  her  vacations  with 
your  mother  ?" 

"  No  !''  said  Jem,  coughing,  and  looking  rather  embarrassed. 

"  Indeed  !    She  is  with  Mrs.  Thalimer  at  present,  I  presume." 

"  No — she  is  still  on  shipboard  !  Why,  my  dear  madam,  she 
only  arrived  from  New  Orleans  this  morning." 

"  And  your  mother  has  not  had  time  to  see  her  !  I  understand. 
Mrs.  Thalimer  will  accompany  her  here,  of  course." 

Jem  began  to  see  the  end  of  the  old  maid's  catechism,  and 
thought  it  best  to  volunteer  the  remainder  of  the  information. 

"  My  mother  is  not  acquainted  with  this  young  lady's  friends," 
he  said  ;  "  and,  in  fact,  she  comes  introduced  only  to  myself." 

"  She  has  a  guardian,  surely  ?"  said  Miss  Smith,  drawing 
back  into  her  Elizabethan  ruff  with  more  dignity  than  she  had 
hitherto  worn. 

"  I  am  her  guardian  !"  replied  Jem,  looking  as  red  and  guilty 
as  if  he  had  really  abducted  the  young  lady,  and  was  ashamed  of 
his  errand. 

The  spinster  bit  her  lips  and  looked  out  of  the  window. 


THE  FEMALE  WARD.  209 

"  Will  you  walk  down  stairs  for  a  moment,  gentlemen,"  she 
resumed,  "  and  let  me  speak  to  my  sister.  I  should  have  told 
you  that  the  rooms  might  possibly  be  engaged.  I  am  not  quite 
sure — indeed — ehem — pray  walk  down  and  be  seated  a  moment !" 

Very  much  to  the  vexation  of  my  discomfited  friend,  I  burst 
into  a  laugh  as  we  closed  the  door  of  the  basement  parlor  be 
hind  us. 

"  You  don't  realize  my  confoundedly  awkward  position,"  said 
he.  "  I  am  responsible  for  every  step  I  take,  to  the  girl's  father 
in  the  first  place,  and  then  to  my  friend  Dauchy,  one  of  the  most 
chivalric  old  cocks  in  the  world,  who,  at  the  same  time,  could 
never  understand  why  there  was  any  difficulty  in  the  matter ! 
And  it  does  seem  strange,  that  in  a  city  with  eighty  thousand  in 
habitants  it  should  be  next  to  impossible  to  find  lodging  for  a 
virtuous  lady,  a  stranger  !" 

I  was  contriving  how  to  tell  Thalimer  that  "  there  was  no  ob 
jection  to  the  camel  but  for  the  dead  cat  hung  upon  its  neck," 
when  a  maid-servant  opened  the  door  with  a  message — "  Miss 
Smith's  compliments,  and  she  was  very  sorry  she  had  no  room  to 
spare  !" 

"  Pleasant !"  said  Jem,  "  very  pleasant !  I  suppose  every  other 
keeper  of  a  respectable  house  will  be  equally  sorry.  Meantime, 
it's  getting  on  toward  noon,  and  that  poor  girl  is  moping  on  ship 
board,  wondering  whether  she  is  ever  to  be  taken  ashore  !  Do 
you  think  she  might  sleep  at  Gallagher's  ?" 

"  Certainly  not !  He  has,  probably,  no  accommodations  for  a 
lady,  and  to  lodge  in  a  restaurant,  after  dining  with  you  there, 
would  be  an  indiscreet  first  step,  in  a  strange  city,  to  say  the  least. 
But  let  us  make  our  visit  to  your  fair  ward,  my  dear  Jem  !  Per- 


210  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


haps  she  has  a  face  innocent  enough  to  tell  its  own  story — like 
the  lady  who  walked  through  Erin  c  with  the  snow-white  wand.'  " 

The  vessel  had  Lain  in  the  stream  all  night,  and  was  just  haul 
ing  up  to  the  wharf  with  the  moving  -fide.  A  crowd  of  specta 
tors  stood  at  the  end  of  her  mooring  cable,  and,  as  she  warped  in, 
universal  attention  seemed  to  be  given  to  a  single  object.  Upon 
a  heap  of  cotton-bales,  the  highest  point  of  the  confused  lumber 
of  the  deck,  sat  a  lady  under  a  sky-blue  parasol.  Her  gown  was 
of  pink  silk  ;  and  by  the  volume  of  this  showy  material  which 
was  presented  to  the  eye,  the  wearer,  when  standing,  promised 
to  turn  out  of  rather  conspicuous  stature.  White  gloves,  a  pair 
of  superb  amethyst  bracelets,  a  string  of  gold  beads  on  her  neck, 
and  shoulders  quite  naked  enough  for  a  ball,  were  all  the  dis 
closures  made  for  a  while  by  the  envious  parasol,  if  we  except  a 
little  object  in  blue,  which  seemed  the  extremity  of  something 
she  was  sitting  on,  held  in  her  left  hand — and  which  turned  out 
to  be  her  right  foot  in  a  blue  satin  slipper  ! 

I  turned  to  Thalimer.  He  was  literally  pale  with  conster 
nation. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  send  for  a  carriage  to  take  your  ward 
away  ?"  I  suggested. 

"  You  don't  believe  that  to  be  Miss  Lasacque,  surely  !"  ex 
claimed  Jem,  turning  upon  me  with  an  imploring  look. 

"Such  is  my  foreboding,"  I  replied;  "but  wait  a  moment. 
Her  face  may  be -pretty,  and  you,  of  course,  in  your  guardian 
capacity  may  suggest  a  simplification  of  her  toilet.  Consider ! — 
the  poor  girl  was  never  before  off  the  plantation — at  least,  so 
says  old  Dauchy's  letter." 

The  sailors  now  began  to  pull  upon  the  stern-line,  and,  as  the 
ship  came  round,  the  face  of  the  unconscious  object  of  curiosity 


THE  FEMALE  WARD.  211 


stole  into  view.  Most  of  the  spectators,  after  a  single  glance, 
turned  their  attention  elsewhere  with  a  smile,  and  Jem,  putting 
his  hands  into  his  two  coat  pockets  behind  him,  walked  off 
towards  the  end  of  the  pier,  whistling  to  himself  very  energeti 
cally.  She  was  an  exaggeration  of  the  peculiar  physiognomy  of 
the  South — lean  rather  than  slight,  sallow  rather  than  pale.  Yet 
I  thought  her  eyes  fine. 

Thalimer  joined  me  as  the  ship  touched  the  dock,  and  we 
stepped  on  board  together.  The  cabin-boy  confirmed  our  expec 
tations  as  to  the  lady's  identity,  and  putting  on  the  very  insinu 
ating  manner  which  was  part  of  his  objectionable  exterior,  Jem 
advanced  and  begged  to  know  if  he  had  the  honor  of  addressing 
Miss  Lasacque. 

Without  loosing  her  hold  upon  her  right  foot,  the  lady  nodded. 

"  Then,  madam  !"  said  Jem,  "  permit  me  to  introduce  to  you 
your  guardian,  Mr.  Thalimer  !" 

"  What,  that  old  gentlemen  coming  this  way  ?"  asked  Miss  La 
sacque,  fixing  her  eyes  oh  a  custom-house  officer  who  was  walk 
ing  the  deck. 

Jem  handed  the  lady  his  "card. 

"  That  is  my  name,"  said  he,  "  and  I  should  be  happy  to  know 
how  I  can  begin  the  duties  of  my  office!". 

"  Dear  me  ."'  said  the  astonished  damsel,  dropping  her  foot  to 
take  his  hand,  "  isn't  there  an  older  Mr.  James  Thalimer  ?  Mr. 
Dauchy  said  it  was  a  gentleman  near  his  own  age !" 

"  I  grow  older,  as  you  know  me  longer  !"  Jem  replied,  apolo 
getically  ;  but  his  ward  was  too  well  satisfied  with  his  appearance, 
to  need  even  this  remarkable  fact  to  console  her.  She  came 
down  with  a  slide  from  her  cotton-bag  elevation,  called  to  the 
cook  to  bring  the  bandbox  with  the  bonnet  in  it,  and  meantime 


212  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


gave  us  a  brief  history  of  the  inconveniences  she  had  suffered  in 
consequence  of  the  loss  of  her  slave,  Dinah,  who  had  died  of  sea 
sickness  three  days  out.  This,  to  me,  was  bad  news,  for  I  had 
trusted  to  a  "  lady's  maid"  for  the  preservation  of  appearances, 
and  the  scandal  threatening  Jem's  guardianship  looked,  in  conse 
quence,  very  imminent. 

"  I  am  dying  to  get  my  feet  on  land  again !"  said  Miss  La- 
gacque,  putting  her  arm  into  her  guardian's,  and  turning  toward 
the  gangway — her  bonnet  not  tied,  nor  her  neck  covered,  and 
thin  blue  satin  slippers,  though  her  feet  were  small,  showing  forth 
in  contrast  with  her  pink  silk  gown,  with  frightful  conspicuous- 
ness  !  Jem  resisted  the  shoreward  pull,  and  stood  motionless  and 
aghast. 

u  Your  baggage,''  he  stammered  at  last. 

"  Here,  cook !"  cried  the  lady,  "  tell  the  captain,  when  he 
comes  aboard,  to  send  my  trunks  to  Mr.  Thalimer's  !  They  are 
down  in  the  hold,  and  he  told  me  he  couldn't  get  at  'em  till  to 
morrow,"  she  added,  by  way  of  explanation  to  Thalimer. 

I  felt  constrained  to  come  to  the  rescue. 

"  Pardon  me,  madam  !"  said  I,  "  there  is  a  little  peculiarity  in 
our  climate,  of  which  you  probably  are  not  advised.  An  east 
wind  commonly  sets  in  about  noon,  which  makes  a  shawl  very 
necessary.  In  consequence,  too,  of  the  bronchitis  which  this  sud 
den  change  is  apt  to  give  people  of  tender  constitutions,  the  ladies 
of  Boston  are  obliged  to  sacrifice  what  is  becoming,  and  wear  their 
dresses  very  high  in  the  throat." 

"  La  !J'  said  the  astonished  damsel,  putting  her  hand  upon  her 
bare  neck,  "  is  it  sore  throat  that  you  mean  ?  I'm  very  subject 
to  it,  indeed  !  Cook  !  bring  me  that  fur-tippet  out  of  the  cabin  ! 


THE  FEMALE  WARD.  213 


I'm  so  sorry  my  dresses  are  all  made  so  low,  and  I  haven't  a  shawl 
unpacked  either  ! — dear  !  dear  !" 

Jem  and  I  exchanged  a  look  of  hopeless  resignation,  as  the 
cook  appeared  with  a  chinchilli  tippet.  A  bold  man  might  have 
hesitated  to  share  the  conspicuousness  of  such  a  figure  in  a  noon 
promenade,  but  we  each  gave  her  an  arm  when  she  had  tied  the 
soiled  riband  around  her  throat,  and  silently  set  forward. 

It  was  a  bright  and  very  warm  day,  and  there  seemed  a  con 
spiracy  among  our  acquaintances  to  cross  our  path.  Once  in  the 
street,  it  was  not  remarkable  that  they  looked  at  us,  for  the  tow 
ering  height  at  which  the  lady  carried  her  very  showy  bonnet,  the 
flashy  material  of  her  dress,  the  jewels  and  the  chinchilli  tippet, 
formed  an  ensemble  which  caught  the  eye  like  a  rainbow ;  and 
truly  people  did  gaze,  and  the  boys,  spite  of  the  unconscious  look 
which  we  attempted,  did  give  rather  disagreeable  evidence  of  be 
ing  amused.  I  had  various  misgivings,  myself,  as  to  the  necessity 
for  my  own  share  in  the  performance,  and,  at  every  corner,  felt 
sorely  tempted  to  bid  guardian  and  ward  good  morning ;  but 
friendship  and  pity  prevailed.  By  streets  and  lanes  not  calcu 
lated  to  give  Miss  Lasacque  a  very  favorable  first  impression  of 
Boston,  we  reached  Washington  street,  and  made  an  intrepid 
dash  across  it  to  the  Marlborough  hotel. 

Of  this  public  house,  Thalimer  had  asked  my  opinion  during 
our  walk,  by  way  of  introducing  an  apology  to  Miss  Lasacque  for 
not  taking  her  to  his  own  home.  She  had  made  it  quite  clear 
that  she  expected  this,  and  Jem  had  nothing  for  it  but  to  draw 
such  a  picture  of  the  decrepitude  of  Mr.  Thalimer,  senior,  and 
the  bed -ridden  condition  of  his  mother  (as  stout  a  couple  as  ever 
plodded  to  church  !)  as  would  satisfy  the  lady  for  his  short-com 
ings  in  hospitality.  This  had  passed  off  very  smoothly,  and  Miss 


214  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


Lasacque  entered  the  Marlboro'  quite  prepared  to  lodge  there, 
but  very  little  aware  (poor  girl !)  of  the  objections  to  receiving 
her  as  a  lodger. 

Mr.  ,  the  proprietor,  had  stood  in  the  archway  as  we 

entered.  Seeing  no  baggage  in  the  lady's  train,  however,  he  had 
not  followed  us  in,  supposing,  probably,  that  we  were  callers  on 
some  of  his  guests.  Jem  left  us  in  the  drawing-room,  and  went 
upon  his  errand  to  the  proprietor,  but  after  half  an  hour's  absence, 
came  back,  looking  very  angry,  and  informed  us  that  no  rooms 
were  to  be  had !  Instead  of  taking  the  rooms  without  explana 
tion,  he  had  been  unwise  enough  to  "  make  a  clean  breast''  to  Mr. 

,  and  the  story  of  tl»e  lady's  being  his  "  ward,"  and  come 

from  Louisiana  to  go  to  school,  rather  staggered  that  discreet  per 
son's  credulity. 

Join  beckoned  me  out,  and  we  held  a  little  council  of  war  in 
the  entry.  Alas  !  I  had  nothing  to  suggest.  I  knew  the  puritan 
metropolis  very  well — I  knew  its  phobia  was  "  the  appearance  of 
evil."  In  Jem's  care-for-nothing  face  lay  the  leprosy  which  closed 
all  doors  against  us.  Even  if  we  had  succeeded,  by  a  coup  Se 
main,  in  lodging  Miss  Lasacque  at  the  Marlboro',  her  guardian's 
daily  visits  would  have  procured  for  her,  in  the  first  week,  some 
intimation  that  she  could  no  longer  be  accommodated. 

"  We  had  best  go  and  dine  upon  it,"  said  I ;  "  worst  come  to 
the  worst,  we  can  find  some  sort  of  dormitory  for  her  at  Gal 
lagher's,  and  to-morrow  she  must  be  put  to  school,  out  of  the 
reach  of  your  '  pleasant,  but  wrong  society.'  " 

"  I  hope  to  Heaven  she'll  'stay  put,'  "  said  Jem,  with  a  long 
sigh. 

We  got  Miss  Lasacque  again  under  way,  and  avoiding  the  now 
crowded  pave  of  Washington  street,  made  a  short  cut  by  Theatre 


THE  FEMALE  WARD.  215 


Alley  to  Devonshire  street  and  Gallagher's.  Safely  landed  in 
"No.  2,"  we  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief.  Jem  rang  the  bell. 

"  Dinner,  waiter,  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  The  same  that  was  ordered  at  six,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes,  only  more  champagne,  and  bring  it  immediately.  Ex 
cuse  me,  Miss  Lasacque,"  added  Jem,  with  a  grave  bow,  "but 
the  non-appearance  of  that  east  wind  my  friend  spoke  of,  has 
given  me  an  unnatural  thirst.  Will  you  join  me  in  some  cham 
pagne  after  your  hot  walk  :" 

';  Xo,  thank  you,"  said  the  lady,  untying  her  tippet,  "  but,  if 
you  please,  I  will  go  to  my  room  before  dinner  !" 

Here  was  trouble  again !  It  had  never  occurred  to  either  of 
us,  that  ladies  must  go  to  their  rooms  before  bed- time. 

"Stop  !"  cried  Jem,  as  she  laid  her  hand  on  the  bell  to  ring  for 
the  chamber-maid,  "  excuse  me — I  must  first  speak  to  the  land 
lord — the  room — the  room  is  not  ready,  probably  !" 

He  seized  his  hat,  and  made  his  exit,  probably  wishing  all  con 
fiding  friends,  with  their  neighbor's  daughters,  in  a  better  world  ! 
He  had  to  do  with  a  man  of  sense,  however.  Gallagher  had  but 
one  bedroom  in  the  house,  which  was  not  a  servant's  room,  and 
that  was  his  own.  In  ten  minutes  it  was  ready,  and  at  the  lady's 
service.  A  black  scullion  was  promoted  for  the  nonce,  to  the 
post  of  chamber-maid,  and,  fortunately,  the  plantation-bred  girl 
had  not  been  long  enough  from  home  to  be  particular.  She  came 
to  dinner  as  radiant  as  a  summer-squash . 

With  the  door  shut,  and  the  soup  before  us,  Thalimer's  spirits 
and  mine  flung  off  their  burthens  together.  Jem  was  the  plea- 
santest  table-companion  in  the  world,  and  he  chatted  and  made 
the  amiable  to  his  ward,  as  if  he  owed  her  some  amends  for  the 
awkward  position  of  which  she  was  so  blessedly  unconscious. 


216  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


Your  "  dangerous  man"  (such  as  he  was  voted),  inspires,  of  course, 
no  distrust  in  those  to  whom  he  chooses  to  be  agreeable.  Miss 
Lasacque  grew,  every  minute,  more  delighted  with  him.  She, 
too,  improved  on  acquaintance.  Come  to  look  at  her  closely, 
Nature  meant  her  for  a  fine  showy  creature,  and  she  was  "  out 
of  condition,"  as  the  jockeys  say — that  was  all  !  Her  features 
were  good,  though  gamboged  by  a  southern  climate,  and  the  fever- 
and-ague  had  flattened  what  should  be  round  and  ripe  lips,  and 
reduced  to  the  mere  frame,  what  should  be  the  bust  and  neck 
of  a  Die  Vernon.  I  am  not  sure  I  saw  all  this  at  the  time.  Her 
subsequent  chrysalis  and  emergence  into  a  beautiful  woman  natu 
rally  color  my  description  now.  But  I  did  see,  then,  that  her 
eyes  were  large  and  lustrous,  and  that  naturally  she  had  high 
spirit,  good  abilities,  and  was  a  thorough  woman  in  sentiment, 
though  deplorably  neglected— for,  at  the  age  of  twenty  she  could 
hardly  read  and  write !  It  was  not  surprising  that  she  was 
pleased  with  us !  She  was  the  only  lady  present,  and  we  were 
the  first  coxcombs  she  had  ever  seen,  and  the  day  was  summery, 
and  the  dinner  in  Gallagher's  best  style.  We  treated  her  like  a 
princess ;  and  the  more  agreeable  man  of  the  two  being  her  guar 
dian,  and  responsible  for  the  propriety  of  the  whole  affair,  there 
was  no  chance  for  a  failure.  We  lingered  over  our  coffee ;  and 
we  lingered  over  our  chassccafe ;  and  we  lingered  over  our  tea ; 
and,  when  the  old  South  struck  twelve,  we  were  still  at  the  table 
in  "  No.  2,"  quite  too  much  delighted  with  each  other  to  have 
thought  of  separating.  It  was  the  venerated  guardian  who  made 
the  first  move,  and,  after  ringing  up  the  waiter  to  discover  that 
the  scullion  had,  six  hours  before,  made  her  nightly  disappear 
ance,  the  lady  was  respectfully  dismissed  with  only  a  candle  for 


THE  FEMALE  WARD.  211 

her  chamber-maid,  and  Mr.  Gallagher's  room  for  her  destination, 
wherever  that  might  be  ! 

We  dined  together  every  successive  day  for  a  week,  and  during 
this  time  the  plot  rapidly  thickened.  Thalimer,  of  course,  vexed 
soul  and  body,  to  obtain  for  Miss  Lasacque  a  less  objectionable  lodg 
ing — urged  scarcely  more  by  a  sense  of  propriety  than  by  a  feeling 
for  her  good-natured  host,  who,  meantime,  slept  on  a  sofa.  But  the 
unlucky  first  step  of  dining  and  lodging  a  young  lady  at  a  restaurant, 
inevitable  as  it  was,  gave  a  fatal  assurance  to  the  predisposed 
scandal  of  the  affair,  and  every  day's  events  heightened  its 'glaring 
complexion.  Miss  Lasacque  had  ideas  of  her  own,  and  very  in 
dependent  ones,  as  to  the  amusement  of  her  leisure  hours.  She 
had  never  been  before  where  there  were  shops,  and  sh<;  spent  her 
first  two  or  three  mornings  in  perambulating  Washington  street, 
dressed  in  a  style  perfectly  amazing  to  beholders,  and  purchasing 
every  description  of  gay  trumpery — the  parcels,  of  course,  sent 
to  Gallagher's,  and  the  bills  to  James  Thalimer,  Esq.  !  To  keep 
her  out  of  the  street,  Jem  took  her,  on  the  third  day,  to  the  rid 
ing  school,  leaving  her  (safely  enough,  he  thought),  in  charge  of 
the  authoritative  Mr.  Roulstone,  while  he  besieged  some  school 
mistress  or  other  to  undertake  her  ciphering  and  geography.  She 
was  all  but  born  on  horseback,  however,  and  soon  tired  of  riding 
round  the  ring.  The  street-door  was  set  open  for  a  moment, 
leaving  exposed  a  tempting  tangent  to  the  circle,  and  out  flew 
Miss  Lasacque,  saving  her  "  Leghorn  flat,"  by  a  bend  to  the  sad 
dle-bow,  that  would  have  done  credit  to  a  dragoon,  and  no  more 
was  seen,  for  hours,  of  the  "  bonnie  black  mare"  and  her  rider. 

The  deepening  of  Miss  Lasacque's  passion  for  Jem,  would  not 
interest   the  reader.     She  loved    like  other  women,  timidly  and 
pensively.     Young  as  the  pasrion  was,  however,  it  came  too  late 
10 


218  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


to  affect  her  manners  before  public  opinion  had  pronounced  on 
them.  There  was  neither  boarding-house  nor  "  private  female 
academy"  within  ten  miles,  into  which  "  Mr.  Thalimer's  young 
lady"  would  have  been  permitted  to  set  her  foot — small  as  was 
the  foot,  and  innocent  as  was  the  pulse  to  which  it  stepped. 

Uncomfortable  as  was  this  state  of  suspense,  and  anxious  as 
we  were  to  fall  into  the  track  marked  "  virtuous,"  if  virtue  would 
ouly  permit ;  public  opinion  seemed  to  think  we  were  enjoying 
ourselves  quite  too  prosperously.  On  the  morning  of  the  seventh 
day  of  our  guardianship,  I  had  two  calls  after  breakfast,  one  from 
poor  Gallagher,  who  reported  that  he  had  been  threatened  with  a 
prosecution  of  his  establishment  as  a  nuisance,  and  another  from 
poorer  Jem,  whose  father  had  threatened  to  take  the  lady  out 
of  his  hands,  and  lodge  her  in  the  insane  asylum  ! 

"  Xot  that  I  don't  wish  she  was  there,"  added  Jera,  "  fur  it  is 
a  very  fine  place,  with  a  nice  garden,  and  luxuries  enough  for 
those  who  can  pay  for  them,  and  faith,  I  believe  it's  the  only 
lodging-house  I've  not  applied  to  !" 

I  must  shorten  my  story.  Jem  anticipated  his  father,  by  riding 
over,  and  showing  his  papers  constituting  him  the  guardian  of 
Miss  Lasacque,  in  which  capacity  he  was,  of  course,  authorized 
to  put  his  ward  under  the  charge  of  keepers.  Everybody  who 
knows  Massachusetts,  knows  that  its  insane  asylums  are  some 
times  brought  to  bear  on  irregular  morals,  as  well  as  on  diseased 
intellects,  and  as  the  presiding  officer  of  the  institution  was  quite 
well  assured  that  Miss  Lasacque  was  well  qualified  to  become  a 
patient,  Jem  had  no  course  left  but  to  profit  by  the  error.  The 
poor  giil  was  invited,  that  afternoon,  to  take  a  drive  in  the  coun 
try,  and  we  came  back  and  dined  without  her,  in  abominable 
spirits,  I  must  say. 


THE  FEMALE  WARD.  219 

Provided  with  the  best  instruction,  the  best  of  care  taken 
of  her  health,  and  the  most  exemplary  of  matrons  interesting 
herself  in  her  patient's  improvements,  Miss  Lasacque  rapidly 
improved — more  rapidly,  no  doubt,  than  she  ever  could  have 
done  by  control  less  rigid  and  inevitable.  Her  father,  by  the 
advice  of  the  matron,  was  not  informed  of  her  location  for  a  year, 
and  at  the  end  of  that  time  he  came  on,  accompanied  by  his 
friend,  Mr.  Dauchy.  He  found  his  daughter  sufficiently  improved 
in  health,  manners,  and  beauty,  to  be  quite  satisfied  with  Jem's 
discharge  of  his  trust,  and  we  all  dined  very  pleasantly  in  "No. 
2  ;"  Miss  Lasacque  declining,  with  a  blush,  my  invitation  to  her 
to  make  one  of  the  party. 


THE  PHARISEE  AND  THE  BARBER, 

SHEAFE  LANE,  in  Boston,  is  an  almost  unmentionable  and  ple- 
'  beian  thoroughfare,  between  two  very  mentionable  and  patrician 
streets.  It  is  mainly  used  by  bakers,  butchers,  urchins  going  to 
school,  and  clerks  carrying  home  parcels — in  short,  by  those  who 
care  less  for  the  beauty  of  the  road  than  for  economy  of  time  and 
shoe-leather.  Jf  you  plea.se,  it  is  a  shabby  hole.  Children  are 
born  there,  however,  and  people  die  and  marry  there,  and  are 
happy  aiid  sad  there,  and  the  great  events  of  life,  more  important 
than  our  liking  or  disliking  of  Sheafe  lane,  take  place  in  it  con 
tinually.  It  used  not  to  be  a  very  savory  place.  Yet  it  has  an 
indirect  share  of  such  glory  as  attaches  to  the  birth-places  of  men 
above  the  common.  The  (present)  great  light  of  the  Unitarian 
church  was  born  at  one  end  of  Sheafe  lane,  and  one  of  the  most 
accomplished  merchantr-gentlemen  in  the  gay  world  of  New  York 
was  born  at  the  other.  And  in  the  old  Hay-market  (a  kind  of 
cul-de-sac,  buried  in  the  side  of  Sheafe  lane),  stood  the  dusty  lists 
of  chivalric  old  Koulstone,  a  gallant  horseman,  who  in  other  days 
would  have  been  a  knight  of  noble  devoir,  though  in  the  degene 
racy  of  a  Yankee  lustrum,  he  devoted  his  soldierly  abilities  to  the 
teaching  of  young  ladies  how  to  ride. 

Are  you  in  Sheafe  lane  ?  (as  the  magnetizers  innuire.)    Please 


THE  PHARISEE  AND  THE  BARBER.  221 


to  step  back  twenty-odd  years,  and  take  the  hand  of  a  lad 
with  a  rosy  face  (ourself — for  we  lived  in  Sheafe  lane  twenty- 
odd  years  ago),  and  come  to  a  small  house,  dingy  yellow,  with  a 
white  gate.  The  yard  is  below  the  level  of  the  street.  Mind 
the  step. 

The  family  are  at  breakfast  in  the  small  parlor  fronting  on  the 
street.  But  come  up  this  dark  staircase  to  the  bedroom  over  the 
parlor — a  very  neat  room,  plainly  furnished  ;  and  the  windows 
are  curtained,  and  there  is  one  large  easy  chair,  and  a  stand  with 
a  Bible  open  upon  it.  In  the  bed  lies  an  old  man  of  seventy,  deaf, 
nearly  blind,  and  bed-ridden. 

We  have  now  shown  you  what  comes  out  of  the  shadows  to  us, 
when  we  remember  the  circumstances  we  are  about  to  body  forth 
in  a  sketch,  for  it  can  scarcely  be  called  a  story. 

It  wanted  an  hour  to  noon.  The  Boylston  clock  struck  eleven, 
and  close  on  the  heel  of  the  last  stroke  followed  the  tap  of  the 
barber's  knuckle  on  the  door  of  the  yellow  house  in  Sheafe  lane. 
Before  answering  to  the  rap,  the  maid-of-all-work  filled  a  tin  can 
from  the  simmering  kettle,  and  surveyed  herself  in  a  three-cor- 
rered  bit  of  looking-glass,  fastened  on  a  pane  of  the  kitchen  win 
dow  ;  then,  with  a  very  soft  and  sweet  "  good  morning,"  to  Rosier, 
the  barber,  she  led  the  way  to  the  old  man's  room. 

"  He  looks  worse  to-day,"  said  the  barber,  as  the  skinny  hand 
of  the  old  man  crept  up  tremblingly  to  his  face,  conscious  of  the 
daily  office  about  to  be  performed  for  him. 

"  They  thiuk  so  below  stairs,7'  said  Harriet,  "  and  one  of  the 
church  is  coming  to  pray  with  him  to-night.  Shall  I  raise  him 
up  now  ?  " 

The  barber  nodded,  and  the  girl  seated  herself  near  the  pillow, 
and  lifting  the  old  man,  drew  him  upon  her  breast,  and  as  the 


222  •     FUN  JOTTINGS. 


operation  went  rather  lingeringly  on,  the  two  chatted  together 
very  earnestly. 

Rosier  was  a  youth  of  about  twenty-one,  talkative  and  caress 
ing,  as  all  barbers  are  ;  and  what  with  his  curly  hair  an  i  ready 
smile,  and  the  smell  of  soap  that  seemed  to  be  one  of  his  natural 
properties,  he  was  a  man  to  be  thought  of  over  a  kitchen  fire. 
Besides,  he  was  thriving  in  his  trade,  and  not  a  bad  match.  All 
of  which  was  duly  considered  by  the  family  with  which  Harriet 
lived,  for  they  loved  the  poor  girl. 

Poor  girl,  I  say.  But  she  was  not  poor,  at  least  if  it  be  true 
that  as  a  woman  thinketh  so  is  she.  Most  people  would  have  de 
scribed  her  as  a  romantic  girl.  And  so  she  was,  but  without 
deserving  a  breath  of  the  ridicule  commonly  attached  to  the  word. 
She  was  uneducated,  too,  if  any  child  in  New  England  can  be 
called  uneducated.  Beyond  school-books  and  the  Bible,  she  had 
read  nothing  but  the  Scottish  Chiefs,  and  this  novel  was  to  her 
what  the  works  of  God  are  to  others.  It  could  never  become 
familiar.  It  must  be  the  gate  of  dream-land  ;  what  the  moon  is 
to  a  poet,  what  a  grove  is  to  a  man  of  revery,  what  sunshine  is 
to  all  the  world.  And  she  mentioned  it  as  seldom  as  people 
praise  sunshine,  and  lived  in  it  as  unconsciously. 

Harriet  had  never  before  been  out  to  service.  She  was  a 
farmer's  daughter,  new  from  the  country.  If  she  was  not  igno 
rant  of  the  degradation  of  her  condition  in  life,  she  forgot  it  habit 
ually.  A  cheerful  and  thoughtful  smile  was  perpetually  on  her 
lips,  and  the  hardships  of  her  daily  routine  were  encountered  as 
things  of  course,  as  clouds  in  the  sky,  as  pebbles  in  the  inevita 
ble  path.  Her  attention  seemed  to  belong  to  her  body,  but  her 
consciousness  only  to  her  imagination.  In  her  voice  and  eyes 
there  was  no  touch  or  taint  of  her  laborious  servitude,  and  if  she 


THE  PHARISEE  AND  THE  BARBER.  223 

had  suddenly  been  "  made  a  lady,"  there  would  have  been  no 
thing  but  her  hard  hands  to  redeem  from  her  low  condition. 
Then,  hard-working  creature  as  she  was,  she  was  touchingly  beau 
tiful.  A  coarse  eye  would  have  passed  her  without  notice,  per 
haps,  but  a  painter  would  not.  She  was  of  a  fragile  shape,  and  had 
a  slight  stoop,  but  her  Lead  was  small  and  exquisitely  moulded, 
and  her  slender  neck,  round,  graceful,  and  polished,  was  set  upon 
her  shoulders  with  the  fluent  grace  of  a  bird's.  Her  hair  was 
profuse,  and  of  a  tinge  almost  yellow  in  the  sun,  but  her  eyes 
were  of  a  blue,  deep  almost  to  blackness,  and  her  heavy  eye 
lashes  darkened  them  still  more  deeply.  She  had  the  least  possi 
ble  color  in  her  cheeks.  Her  features  were  soft  and  unmarked, 
and  expressed  delicacy  and  repose,  though  her  nostrils  were  capa 
ble  of  dilating  with  an  energy  of  expression  that  seemed  wholly 
foreign  to  her  character. 

Rosier  had  first  seen  Harriet  when  called  in  to  the  old  man,  six 
months  before,  and  they  were  now  supposed  by  the  family  to  be 
engaged  lovers,  waiting  only  for  a  little  more  sunshine  on  the  bar 
ber's  fortune.  Meantime,  they  saw  each  other  at  least  half  an 
hour  every  morning,  and  commonly  passed  their  evenings  to 
gether,  and  the  girl  seemed  very  tranquilly  happy  in  her  prospect 
of  marriage. 

At  four  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day  before  mentioned, 
Mr.  Flint  was  to  make  a  spiritual  visit  to  the  old  man.  Let  us 
first  introduce  him  to  the  reader. 

Mr.  Asa  Flint  was  a  bachelor  of  about  forty-five,  and  an  "  ac 
tive  member"  of  a  church  famed  for  its  zeal.  He  was  a  tall  man, 
with  a  little  bend  in  his  back,  and  commonly  walked  with  his 
eyes  upon  the  ground,  like  one  intent  on  meditation.  His  com 
plexion  was  sallow,  and  his  eyes  dark  and  deeply  set ;  but  by 


224  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


dint  of  good  teeth,  and  a  little  "  wintry  redness  in  his  cheek,"  he 
was  good-looking  enough  for  all  his  ends.  He  dressed  in  black, 
as  all  religious  men  must  (in  Boston),  and  wore  shoes  with  black 
stockings  the  year  round.  In  his  worldly  condition,  Mr.  Flint 
had  always  been  prospered.  He  spent  five  hundred  dollars  a  year 
in  his  personal  expenses,  and  made  five  thousand  in  his  business,  and 
subscribed,  say  two  hundred  dollars  a  year  to  such  societies  as 
printed  the  name  of  the  donors.  Mr.  Flint  had  no  worldly  ac 
quaintances.  He  lived  in  a  pious  boarding-house,  and  sold  all 
his  goods  to  the  members  of  the  country  churches  in  communion 
with  his  own.  •  He  "  loved  the  brethren,"  for  he  wished  to  con 
verse  with  no  one  who  did  not  see  heaven  and  the  church  at  his 
back — himself  in  the  foreground,  and  the  other  two  accessories  in 
the  perspective.  Piety  apart,  he  had  found  out  at  twenty-five, 
that,  as  a  sinner,  he  would  pass  through  the  world  simply  Asa 
Flint — as  a  saint,  he  would  be  Asa  Flint  plus  eternity,  and  the 
respect  of  a  large  congregation.  He  was  a  shrewd  man,  and 
chose  the  better  part.  Also,  he  remembered,  sin  is  more  expen 
sive  than  sanctity. 

At  four  o'clock  Mr.  Flint  knocked  at  the  door.  At  the  same 
hour  there  was  a  maternal  prayer-meeting  at  the  vestry,  and  of 
course  it  was  to  be  numbered  among  his  petty  trials  that  he  must 
find  the  mistress  of  the  house  absent  from  home.  He  walked  up 
stairs,  and  after  a  look  into  the  room  of  the  sick  man,  dispatched 
the  lad  who  had  opened  the  door  for  him,  to  request  the  "  help" 
of  the  family  to  be  present  at  the  devotions. 

Harriet  had  a  rather  pleasing  recollection  of  Mr.  Flint.  He 
had  offered  her  his  arm,  a  week  before,  in  coming  out  from  a  con 
ference  meeting,  and  had  "  presumed  that  she  was  a  young  lady 


THE  PHARISEE  AND  THE  BARBER.  225 


on  a  visit"  to  the  mistress  !  She  arranged  her  'kerchief  and  took 
the  kettle  off  the  fire. 

Mr.  Flint  was  standing  by  the  bedside  with  folded  hands.  The 
old  man  lay  looking  at  him  with  a  kind  of  uneasy  terror  in  his 
face,  which  changed,  as  Harriet  entered,  to  a  smile  of  relief.  She 
retired  modestly  to  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and,  hidden  by  the  cur 
tain,  open  only  at  the  side,  she  waited  the  commencement  of 
the  prayer. 

"  Kneel  there,  little  boy  !"  said  Mr.  Flint,  pointing  to  a  chair 
on  the  other  side  of  the  light-stand,  "  and  you,  my  dear,  kneel 
here  by  me  !  Let  us  pray  !" 

Harriet  had  dropped  upon  her  knees  near  the  corner  of  the 
bed,  and  Mr.  Flint  dropped  upon  his,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
post,  so  that  after  raising  his  hands  in  the  first  adjuration,  they 
descended  gradually,  and  quite  naturally,  upon  the  folded  hands 
of  the  neighbor — and  there  they  remained.  She  dared  not  with 
draw  them,  but  as  his  body  rocked  to  and  fro  in  his  devout  ex 
ercise,  she  drew  back  her  head  to  avoid  coming  into  further  con 
tact,  and  escaped  with  only  his  breath  upon  her  temples. 

It  was  a  very  eloquent  prayer.  Mr.  Flint's  voice,  in  a  worldly 
man,  would  have  been  called  insinuating,  but  its  kind  of  covert 
sweetness,  low  and  soft,  seemed,  in  a  prayer,  only  the  subdued 
monotony  of  reverence  and  devotion.  But  it  won  upon  the  ear 
all  the  same.  He  beg'an,  with  a  repetition  of  all  the  most  sub 
lime  ascriptions  of  the  psalmist,  filling  the  room,  it  appeared  to 
Harriet,  with  a  superhuman  presence.  She  trembled  to  be  so 
near  him  with  his  words  of  awe.  Gradually  he  took  up  the  more 
affecting  and  tender  passages  of  scripture,  and  drew  the  tears  into 
her  eyes  with  the  pathos  of  his  tone  and  the  touching  images  he 
wove  together.  His  hand  grew  moist  upon  hers,  and  he  leaned 
10* 


226  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


closer  to  her.  He  began,  after  a  short  pause,  to  pray  for  her 
especially — that  her  remarkable  beauty  might  not  be  a  snare  to 
her — that  her  dove-like  eyes  might  beam  only  on  the  saddened 
faces  of  the  saints — that  she  might  be  enabled  to  shun  the  com 
pany  of  the  worldly,  and  consort  only  with  God's  people — and 
that  the  tones  of  prayer  now  in  her  ears  might  sink  deep  into  her 
heart  as  the  voice  of  one  who  would  never  cease  to  feel  an  inte 
rest  in  her  temporal  and  eternal  welfare.  His  hand  tightened  its 
grasp  upon  hers,  and  his  face  turned  more  toward  her  ;  and  as 
Harriet,  blushing,  spite  of  the  awe  weighing  on  Tier  heart,  stole  a 
look  at  the  devout  man,  she  met  the  full  gaze  of  his  coal-black 
eyes  fixed  unwinkingly  upon  her.  She  was  entranced.  She 
dared  not  stir,  and  she  dared  not  take  her  eyes  from  his.  And 
when  he  came  to  his  amen,  she  sank  back  upon  the  ground,  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hand's.  And  presently  she  remembered, 
with  some  wonder,  that  the  old  man,  for  whom  Mr.  Flint  had 
come  to  pray,  had  not  been  even  mentioned  in  the  prayer. 

The  lad  left  the  room  after  the  amen,  and  Mr.  Flint  raised 
Harriet  from  the  floor  and  seated  her  upon  a  chair  out  of  the  old 
man's  sight,  and  pulled  a  hymn-book  from  his  pocket,  and  sat 
down  beside  her.  She  was  a  very  enthusiastic  singer,  to  say  the 
least,  and  he  commonly  led  the  singing  at  the  conferences,  and 
so,  holding  her  hand  that  she  might  beat  the  time  with  him,  he 
passed  an  hour  in  what  he  would  call  very  sweet  communion. 
And  by  this  time  the  mistress  of  the  family  came  home,  and  Mr. 
Flint  took  his  leave. 

From  that  evening,  Mr.  Flint  fairly  undertook  the  "  eternal 
welfare"  of  the  beautiful  girl.  From  her  kind  mistress  he  easily 
procured  for  her  the  indulgence  due  to  an  awakened  sinner,  and 
she  had  permission  to  frequent  the  nightly  conference,  Mr.  Flint 


THE  PHARISEE  AND  THE  BARBER.  221 


always  charging  himself  with  the  duty  of  seeing  her  safely  home. 
He  called  sometimes  in  the  afternoon,  and  had  a  private  inter 
view  to  ascertain  the  "  state  of  her  mind,''  and  under  a  strong 
"  conviction''  of  something  or  other,  the  excited  girl  lived  now 
in  a  constant  revery,  and  required  as  much  looking  after  as  a 
child.  She  was  spoiled  as  a  servant,  but  Mr.  Flint  had  only  done 
his  duty  by  her. 

This  seemed  all  wrong  to  Rosier,  the  barber,  however.  The 
bright  sweet  face  of  the  girl  he  thought  to  marry,  had  grown  sad, 
and  her  work  went  all  amiss — he  could  see  that.  She  had  no 
smile,  and  almost  no  word,  for  him.  He  liked  little  her  going 
•out  at  dusk  when  he  could  not  accompany  her,  and  coming  homo 
late  with  the  same  man  always,  though  a  very  good  man,  no 
doubt.  Then,  once  lately,  when  he  had  spoken  of  the  future,  she 
had  murmured  something  which  Mr.  Flint  had  said»about  "  mar 
rying  with  unbelievers,"  and  it  stuck  in  Hosier's  mind  and  trou 
bled  him.  Harriet  grew  thin  and  haggard  besides,  though  she 
paid  more  attention  to  her  dress,  and  dressed  more  ambitiously 
than  she  used  to  do. 

We  are  reaching  back  over  a  score  or  more  of  years  for  the 
scenes  we  are  describing,  and  memory  drops  here  and  there  a 
circumstance  by  the  way.  The  reader  can  perhaps  restore  the 
lost  fragments,  if  we  give  what  we  remember  of  the  outline. 

The  old  man  died,  and  Rosier  performed  the  last  of  his  offices 
to  fit  him  for  the  grave,  and  that,  if  we  remember  rightly,  was 
the  last  of  his  visits,  but.  one,  to  the  white  house  in  Sheafe  lane. 
The  bed  was  scarce  vacated  by  the  dead,  ere  it  was  required 
again  for  another  object  of  pity.  Harriet  was  put  into  it  with  a 
brain  fever.  She  was  ill  for  many  weeks,  and  called  constantly 
on  Mr.  Flint's  name  in  her  delirium  ;  and  when  the  fever  left 


228  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


her,  she  seemed  to  have  but  one  desire  on  earth — that  he  should 
come  and  see  her.  Message  after  message  was  secretly  carried 
to  him  by  the  lad,  whom  she  had  attached  to  her  with  her  uui- 
form  kindness  and  sweet  temper,  but  he  never  came.  She  re 
lapsed  after  a  while  into  a  state  of  stupor,  like  idiocy,  and  when 
day  after  day  passed  without  amendment,  it  was  thought  neces 
sary  to  send  for  her  father  to  take  her  home. 

A  venerable  looking  old  farmer,  with  white  hairs,  drove  his 
rough  wagon  into  Sheafe  lane  one  evening,  we  well  remember. 
Slowly,  with  the  aid  of  his  long  staff,  he  crept  up  the  narrow 
staircase  to  his  daughter's  room,  and  stood  a  long  time,  looking 
at  her  in  silence.  She  did  not  speak  to  him. 

He  slept  upon  a  bed  made  up  at  the  side  of  hers,  upon  the 
floor,  and  the  nest  morning  he  went  out  early  for  his  horse,  aud 
she  was  taken  up  and  dressed  for  the  journey.  She  spoke  to  no 
one,  and  when  the  old  man  had  breakfasted,  she  quietly  submitted 
to  be  carried  toward  the  door.  The  sight  of  the  street  first 
seemed  to  awaken  some  recollection,  and  suddenly  in  a  whisper 
she  called  to  Mr.  Flint. 

"  Who  is  Mr.  Flint  ?"  asked  the  old  man. 

Hosier  was  at  the  gate,  standing  there  with  his  hat  off  to  bid 
her  farewell.  She  stopped  upon  the  side-walk,  and  looked  around 
hurriedly. 

"  He  is  not  here — I'll  wait  for  him  !"  cried  Harriet,  in  a  trou 
bled  voice,  and  she  let  go  her  father's  arm  and  stepped  back. 

They  took  hold  of  her  and  drew  her  toward  the  wagon,  but 
she  struggled  to  get  free,  and  moaned  like  a  child  in  grief.  Ro 
sier  took  her  by  the  hand  and  tried  to  speak  to  her,  but  he 
choked,  and  the  tears  came  to  his  eyes.  Apparently  she  did  not 
know  him. 


THE  PHARISEE  AND  THE  BARBER.  229 


A  few  passers-by  gathered  around,  now,  and  it  was  necessary 
to  lift  her  into  the  wagon  by  force,  for  the  distressed  father  was 
confused  and  embarrassed  with  her  struggles,  and  the  novel  scene 
around  him.  At  the  suggestion  of  the  mistress  of  the  family, 
Rosier  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  seated  her  in  the  chair  intended 
for  her,  but  her  screams  began  to  draw  a  crowd  around,  and  her 
struggles  to  free  herself  were  so  violent,  that  it  was  evident  the 
old  man  could  never  take  her  home  alone.  Rosier  kindly  offered 
to  accompany  him,  and  as  he  held  her  in  her  seat  and  tried  to 
soothe  her,  the  unhappy  father  got  in  beside  her  and  drove  away. 

She  reached  home,  Rosier  informed  us,  in  a  state  of  dreadful 
exhaustion,  still  calling  on  the  name  that  haunted  her ;  and  we 
heard  soon  after  that  she  relapsed  into  a  brain  fever,  and  death 
soon  came  to  her  with  a  timely  deliverance  from  her  trouble. 


MABEL   WYNNE, 

MABEL  WYNNE  was  the  topmost  sparkle  on  the  crest  of  the 
first  wave  of  luxury  that  swept  over  New  York.  Up  to  her  time, 
the  aristocratic  houses  were  furnished  with  high  buffets,  high- 
backed  and  hair-bottomed  mahogany  chairs,  one  or  two  family  por 
traits,  and  a  silver  tray  on  the  side-board,  containing  cordials  and 
brandy  for  morning  callers.  In  the  centre  of  the  room  hung  a 
chandelier  of  colored  lamps,  and  the  lighting  of  this  and  the 
hiring  of  three  negroes  (to  "fatigue,"  as  the  French  say,  a 
clarionet,  a  base-viol,  and  a  violin)  were  the  only  preparations 
necessary  for  the  most  distinguished  ball.  About,  the  time  that 
Mabel  left  school,  however,  some  adventurous  pioneer  of  the 
Dutch  haut  ton  ventured  upon  lamp  stands  for  the  corners  of  the 
rooms,  stuffed  red  benches  along  the  walls,  and  chalked  floors  ; 
and  upon  this  a  French  family  of  great  beauty,  residing  in  the 
lower  part  of  Broadway,  ventured  upon  a  fancy  ball  with  wax- 
candles  instead  of  lamps,  French  dishes  and  sweatmeats  instead 
of  pickled  oysters  and  pink  champagne  ;  and,  the  door  thus 
opened,  luxury  came  in  like  a  flood.  Houses  were  built  on  a 
new  plan  of  sumptuous  arrangement,  the  ceiling  stained  in  fresco, 
and  the  columns  of  the  doors  within  painted  in  imitation  of  bronze 


MABEL  WYNNE.  231 


and  marble  ;  and  at  last  the  climax  was  topped  by  Mr.  Wynne, 
who  sent  the  dimensions  of  every  room  in  his  new  house  to  an 
upholsterer,  in  Paris,  with  carte  blanche  as  to  costliness  and  style, 
and  the  fournisseur  to  come  out  himself  and  see  to  the  arrange 
ment  and  decoration. 

It  was  Manhattan  tea-time,  old  style,  and  while  Mr.  Wynne, 
•who  had  the  luxury  of  a  little  -plain  furniture  in  the  basement, 
was  comfortably  taking  his  toast  and  hyson  below  stairs,  Miss 
Wynne  was  just  announced  as  "  at  home,"  by  the  black  footman, 
and  two  of  her  admirers  made  their  highly-scented  entree.  '!  hey 
were  led  through  a  suite  of  superb  rooms,  lighted  with  lamps  hid 
in  alabaster  vases,  and  ushered  in  at  a  mirror-door  beyond, 
where,  in  a  tent  of  fluted  silk,  with  ottomans  and  draperies  of  the 
game  stuff,  exquisitely  arranged,  the  imperious  Mabel  held  her 
court  of  'teens. 

Mabel  Wynne  was  one  of  those  accidents  of  sovereign  beauty 
which  nature  seems  to  take  delight  in  misplacing  in  the  world — 
like  the  superb  lobelia  flashing  among  the  sedges,  or  the  golden 
oriole  pluming  his  dazzling  wings  in  the  depth  of  a  wilderness.  She 
was  no  less  than  royal  in  all  her  belongings.  Her  features  expressed 
consciousness  of  sway — a  sway  whose  dictates  had  been  from 
infancy  anticipated.  Never  a  surprise  had  startled  those  lan 
guishing  eyelids  from  their  deliberateness — never  a  suffusion 
other  than  the  humid  cloud  of  a  tender  and  pensive  hour  had 
dimmed  those  adorable  dark  eyes.  Or,  so  at  least  it  seemed  ! 

She  was  a  fine  creature,  nevertheless — Mabel  Wynne  !  But 
she  looked  to  others  like  a  specimen  of  such  fragile  and  costly 
workmanship  that  nothing  beneath  a  palace  would  be  a  becoming 
home  for  her. 


232  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


"  For  $e  present,"  said  Mr.  Bellallure,  one  of  the  gentlemen 
who  entered,  "  the  bird  has  a  fitting  cage.'' 

Miss  Wynne  only  smiled  in  reply,  and  the  other  gentleman 
took  upon  himself  to  be  the  interpreter  of  her  unexpressed 
thought. 

"  The  cage  is  the  accessory — not  the  bird,"  said  Mr.  Blythe, 
"  and,  for  my  part,  I  think  Miss-Wynne  would  show  better  the 
humbler  her  surroundings.  As  Perdita  upon  the  greensward, 
and  open  to  a  shepherd's  wooing,  I  should  inevitably  sling  my 
heart  upon  a  crook — " 

"  And  forswear  that  formidable,  impregnable  vow  of  celibacy  ?•"' 
interrupted  Miss  Wynne. 

"  I  am  only  supposing  a  case,  and  you  are  not  likely  to  be  a 
shepherdess  on  the  green."  But  Mr.  Blythe's  smile  ended  in  a 
look  of  clouded  rcvery,  and  after  a  few  minutes'  conversation,  ill 
sustained  by  the  gentlemen,  who  seemed  each  in  the  other's  way, 
they  rose  and  took  their  leave — Mr.  Bellallure  lingering  last,  for 
he  was  a  lover  avowed. 

As  the  door  closed  upon  her  admirer,  Miss  Wynne  drew  a  let 
ter  from  her  portfolio,  and  turning  it  over  and  over  with  a  smile 
of  abstracted  curiosity,  opened  and  read  it  for  the  second  time. 
She  had  received  it  that  morning  from  an  unknown  source,  and  as 
it  was  rather  a  striking  communication,  perhaps  tho  reader  had 
better  know  something  of  it  before  we  go  on. 

It  commenced  without  preface,  thus : — 

"  On  a  summer  morning,  twelve  years  ago,  a  chimney  sweep, 
after  doing  his  work  and  singing  his  song,  commenced  his  descent. 
It  was  the  chimney  of  a  large  house,  and  becoming  embarrassed 
among  the  flues,  he  lost  his  way  and  found  himself  on  the  hearth 


MABEL  WYNNE.  233 

of  a  sleeping- chamber  occupied  by  a  child.  The  sun  was  just 
breaking  through  the  curtains  of  the  room,  a  vacated  bed  showed 
that  some  one  had  risen  lately,  probably  the  nurse,  and  the 
sweep,  with  an  irresistible  impulse,  approached  the  unconscious 
little  sleeper.  She  lay  with  her  head  upon  a  round  arm  buried 
in  flaxen  curls,  and  the  smile  of  a  dream  on  her  rosy  and  parted 
lips.  It  was  a  picture  of  singular  loveliness,  and  something  in 
the  heart  of  that  boy-sweep,  as  he  stood  and  looked  upon  the 
child,  knelt  to  it  with  an  agony  of  worship.  The  tears  gushed  to 
his  eyes.  He  stripped  the  sooty  blanket  from  his  breast,  and 
looked  at  the  skin  white  upon  his  side.  The  contrast  between 
his  condition  and  that  of  the  fair  child  sleeping  before  him  brought 
the  blood  to  his  blackened  brow  with  the  hot  rush  of  lava.  He 
knelt  beside  the  bed  on  which  she  slept,  took  her  hand  in  his 
sooty  grasp,  and  with  a  kiss  upon  the  white  and  dewy  fingers, 
poured  his  whole  soul  with  passionate  earnestness  into  a  resolve. 

"  Hereafter  you  may  learn,  if  you  wish,  the  first  struggles  of 
that  boy  in  the  attempt  to  diminish  the  distance  between  yourself 
and  him — for  you  will  have  understood  that  you  were  the  beauti 
ful  child  he  saw  asleep.  I  repeat  that  it  is  twelve  years  since  he 
stood  in  your  chamber.  He  has  seen  you  almost  daily  since 
then — watched  your  going  out  and  coming  in — fed  his  eyes  and 
heart  on  your  expanding  beauty,  and  informed  himself  of  every 
change  and  development  in  your  mind  and  character.  With  this 
intimate  knowledge  of  you,  and  with  the  expansion  of  his  own 
intellect,  his  passion  has  deepened  and  strengthened.  It  pos 
sesses  him  now  as  life  does  his  heart,  and  will  endure  as  long. 
But  his  views  with  regard  to  you  are  changed,  nevertheless. 

"  You  will  pardon  the  presumption  of  my  first  feeling — that  to 
attain  my  wishes  I  had  only  to  become  your  equal.  It  was  a 


234  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


natural  error — for  my  agony  at  realizing  the  difference  of  our 
conditions  in  life  was  enough  to  absorb  me  at  the  time — but  it  is 
surprising  to  me  how  long  that  delusion  lasted.  I  am  rich  now. 
I  have  lately  added  to  my  fortune  the  last  acquisition  I  thought 
desirable.  But  with  the  thought  of  the  next  thing  to  be  done, 
came  like  a  thunderbolt  upon  me  the  fear  that  after  all  my  efforts 
you  might  be  destined  for  another  !  The  thought  is  simple 
enough.  You  would  think  that  it  would  have  haunted  me  from 
the  beginning.  But  I  have  either  unconsciously  shut  my  eyes 
to  it,  or  I  have  been  so  absorbed  in  educating  and  enriching  my 
self,  that  that  goal  only  was  visible  to  me.  It  was  perhaps  fortun 
ate  for  my  perseverance  that  I  was  so  blinded.  Of  my  midnight 
studies,  of  my  labors,  of  all  my  plans,  self-denials,  and  anxieties, 
you  have  seemed  the  reward  !  I  have  never  gained  a  thought, 
never  learned  a  refinement,  never  turn'ed  over  gold  and  silver, 
that  it  was  not  a  step  nearer  to  Mabel  Wynne.  And  now,  that 
in  worldly  advantages,  after  twelve  years  of  effort  and  trial,  I 
stand  by  your  side  at  last,  a  thousand  men  who  never  thought  of 
you  till  yesterday  are  equal  competitors  with  me  for  your  haud  ! 
"  But,  as  I  said,  my  views  with  regard  to  you  have  changed. 
I  have  with  bitter  effort,  conquered  the  selfishness  of  this  one 
life-time  ambition.  I  am  devoted  to  you,  as  I  have  been  from  the 
moment  I  first  saw  you — life  and  fortune.  These  are  still  yours 
— but  without  the  price  at  which  you  might  spurn  them.  My 
person  is  plain  and  unattractive.  You  have  seen  me,  and  shown 
*me  no  preference.  There  are  others  whom  you  receive  with 
favor.  And  with  your  glorious  beauty,  and  sweet,  admirably 
sweet  qualities  of  character,  it  would  be  an  outrage  to  nature  that 
you  should  not  choose  freely,  and  be  mated  with  something  of 
your  kind.  Of  those  who  now  surround  you  I  see  no  one 


MABEL  WYNNE.  235 


•worthy  of  you — but  he  may  come  !  Jealousy  shall  not  blind  me 
to  his  merits.  The  first  mark  of  your  favor  (and  I  shall  be 
aware  of  it)  will  turn  upon  him  my  closest,  yet  most  candid  scru 
tiny.  He  must  .love  you  well — for  I  shall  measure  his  love  by 
my  own.  He  must  have  manly  beauty,  and  delicacy,  and  honor 
— he  must  be  worthy  of  you,  in  short — but  he 'need  not  be  rich. 
He  who  steps  between  me  and  you  takes  the  fortune  I  had 
amassed  for  you.  J  tell  you  this  that  you  may  have  no  limit  in 
your  choice — for  the  worthiest  of  a  woman's  lovers  is  often 
barred  from  her  by  poverty. 

"  Of  course  I  have  made  no  vow  against  seeking  your  favor. 
On  the  contrary,  I  shall  lose  no  opportunity  of  making  myself 
agreeable  to  you.  It  is  against  my  nature  to  abandon  hope,  though 
I  am  painfully  conscious  of  my  inferiority  to  other  men  in  the  qual 
ities  which  please  a  woman.  All  I  have  done  is  to  deprive  my 
pursuit  of  its  selfishness — to  make  it  subservient  to  your  happi 
ness  purely — as  it  still  would  be  were  I  the  object  of  your  pref 
erence.  You  will  hear  from  me  at  any  crisis  of  your  feelings. 
Pardon  my  being  a  spy  upon  you.  I  know  you  well  enough  to 
be  sure  that  this  letter  will  be  a  secret — since  I  wish  it.  Adieu." 

Mabel  laid  her  cheek  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand  and  mused 
long  on  this  singular  communication.  It  stirred  her  romance, 
but  it  awakened  still  more  her  curiosity.  Who  was  he  ?  She 
had  "  seen  him  and  shown  him  no  preference  !"  Which  could  it 
be  of  the  hunderd  of  her  chance-made  acquaintances  ?  She  con 
jectured  at  some  disadvantage,  for  "  she  had  come  out"  within 
the  past  year  only,  and  her  mother  having  long  been  dead,  the 
visitors  to  the  house  were  all  but  recently  made  known  to  her. 
She  could  set  aside  two-thirds  of  them,  as  sons  of  families  well 


236  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


known,  but  there  were  at  least  a  score  of  others,  any  one  of 
whom  might,  twelve  years  before,  have  been  as  obscure  as  her 
anonymous  lover.  "Whoever  he  might  be,  Mabel  thought  he 
could  hardly  come  into  her  presence  again  without  betraying  him 
self,  and  with  a  pleased  smile  at  the  thought  of  the  discovery,  she 
again  locked  up  the  letter. 

Those  were  days  (to  be  regretted  or  not,  as  you  please,  dear 
reader !)  when  the  notable  society  of  New  York  revolved  in  one 
pelf-complacent  and  clearly-defined  circle.  Call  it  a  wheel,  and 
say  tbat  the  centre  was  a  belle  and  the  radii  were  beaux — (the 
periphery  of  course  composed  of  those  who  could  "  down  with  the 
dust").  And  on  the  fifteenth  of  July  regularly  and  imperatively, 
this  fashionable  wheel  rolled  off  to  Saratoga. 

"  Mabel !  my  daughter !"  said  old  Wynne,  as  he  bade  her 
good  night  the  evening  before  starting  for  the  Springs, "  it  is  use 
less  to  be  blind  to  the  fact  that  among  your  many  admirers  you 
have  several  very  pressing  lovers — suiters  for  your  hand  I  may 
safely  say.  Now,  I  do  not  wish  to  put  any  unnecessary  restraint 
upon  your  choice,  but  as  you  are  going  to  a  gay  place,  where  you 
are  likely  to  decide  the  matter  in  your  own  mind,  I  wish  to  express 
an  opinion.  You  may  give  it  what  weight  you  think  a  father's 
judgment  should  have  in  such  matters.  I  do  not  like  Mr.  Bell- 
allure — for,  beside  my  prejudice  against  the  man,  we  know 
nothing  of  his  previous  life,  and  he  may  be  a  swindler  or  any 
thing  else.  I  do  like  Mr.  Blythe — for  I  have  known  him  many 
years — he  comes  of  a  most  respectable  family,  and  he  is  wealthy 
and  worthy.  These  two  seem  to  me  the  most  earnest,  and  you 
apparently  give  them  the  most  of  your  time.  If  the  deci-iun  is 
to  be  between  them,  you  have  my  choice.  "  Good  night,  my 
love  !'» 


MABEL  WYNNE.  237 


Some  people  think  it  is  owing  to  the  Saratoga  water.  I  differ 
from  them.  The  water  is  an  "  alterative,"  it  is  true-— but  I 
think  people  do  not  so  much  alter  as  develop  at  Sara 
toga.  The  fact  is  clear  enough-^that  at  the  Springs  we  change 
our  opinions  of  almost  every  body — but  (though  it  seems  a  bold 
supposition  at  first  glance)  I  am  inclined  to  believe  it  is  because 
we  see  so  much  more  of  them  !  Knowing  people  in  the  city  and 
knowing  them  at  the  Springs  is  very  much  in  the  same  line  of 
proof  as  tasting  wine  and  drinking  a  bottle.  Why,  what  is  a 
week's  history  of  a  city  acquaintance  ?  A  morning  call  thrice  a 
week,  a  diurnal  bow  in  Broadway,  and  perhaps  a  quadrille  or  two 
in  the  party  season.  What  chance  in  that  to  ruffle  a  temper  or 
try  a  weakness  ?  At  the  Springs,  now,  dear  lady,  you  wear  a 
man  all  day  like  a  shoe.  Down  at  the  platform  with  him  to 
drink  the  waters  before  breakfast — strolls  on  the  portico  with 
him  till  ten — drives  with  him  to  Barheight's  till  dinner — lounges 
in  the  drawing-room  with  him  till  tea — dancing  and  promenading 
with  him  till  midnight — very  little  short  altogether  of  absolute 
matrimony  ;  and  like  matrimony,  it  is  a  very  severe  trial.  Your 
"  best  fellow"  is  sure  to  be  found  out,  and  so  is  your  plausible 
fellow,  your  egotist,  and  your  "  spoon." 

Mr.  Beverly  Bellallure  had  cultivated  the  male  attractions 
with  marked  success.  At  times  he  probably  thought  himself  a 
plain  man,  and  an  artist  who  should  only  paint  what  could  be 
measured  with  a  rule,  would  have  made  a  plain  portrait  of  Mr. 
Bellallure.  But — the  atmosphere  of  the  man !  There  is  a 
physiognomy  in  movement — there  is  aspect  in  the  harmonious 
link  between  mood  and  posture — there  is  expression  in  the  face 
of  which  the  features  are  as  much  a  portrait  as  a  bagpipe 
is  a  copy  of  a  Scotch  song.  Beauty,  my  dear  artist,  can  not 


238  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


always  be  translated  by  canvass  and  oils.  You  must  paint  "the 
magnetic  fluid"  to  get  a  portrait  of  some  men.  Sir  Thomas 
Lawrence  seldom  painted  anything  else — as  you  may  see  by  his 
picture  of  Lady  Blessington,  which  is  like  her  without  having 
copied  a  single  feature  of  her  face.  Yet  an  artist  would  be  very 
much  surprised  if  you  should  offer  to  sit  to  him  for  your  mag 
netic  atmosphere — though  it  expresses  (does  it  not  ?)  exactly 
what  you  want  when  you  order  a  picture  !  You  wish  to  be 
painted  as  you  appear  to  those  who  love  you — a  picture  altogether 
unrecognizable  by  those  who  love  you  not. 

Mr.  Bellallure,  then,  was  magnetically  handsome — positively 
plain.  He  dressed  with  an  art  beyond  detection.  He  spent  his 
money  as  if  he  could  dip  it  at  will  out  of  Pac tolas.  Het*Was  in 
timate  with  nobody,  and  so  nobody  knew  his  history  ;  but  he  wrote 
himself  on  the  register  of  Congress  Hall  as  "  from  New  York," 
and  he  threw  all  his  forces  into  one  unmistakeable  demonstration 
— the  pursuit  of  Miss  Mabel  Wynne. 

But  Mr.  Bellallure  had  a  formidable  rival.  Mr.  Blythe  was 
as  much  in  earnest  as  he,  though  he  played  his  game  with  a  touch- 
and-go  freedom,  as  if.  he  was  prepared  to  lose  it.  And  Mr. 
Biythe  had  very  much  surprised  those  people  at  Saratoga  who 
did  not  know  that  between  a  very  plain  man  and  a  very  elegant 
man  there  is  often  but  the  adding  of  the  rose-leaf  to  the  brim 
ming  jar.  He  was  perhaps  a  little  gayer  than  in  New  York,  cer 
tainly  a  little  more  dressed,  certainly  a  little  more  prominent  in 
general  conversation — but  without  any  difference  that  you  could 
swear  to,  Mr.  Blythe,  the  plain  and  reliable  business  man,  whom 
everybody  esteemed  without  particularly  admiring,  had  become 
Mr.  Blythe  the  model  of  elegance  and  ease,  the  gentleman  and 


MABEL  WYNNE.  239 


conversationist  par  excellence.  And  nobody  could  tell  how  the 
statue  could  have  lain  so  long  unsuspected  in  the  marble. 

The  race  for  Miss  Wynne's  hand  and  fortune  was  a  general 
sweepstakes,  and  there  were  a  hundred  men  at  the  Springs  ready 
to  take  advantage  of  any  falling  back  on  the  part  of  the  two  ou 
the  lead  ;  but  with  Blythe  and  Bellallure  Miss  Wynne  herself 
seemed  fully  occupied.  The  latter  had  a  "  friend  at  court" — 
the  belief,  kept  secret  in  the  fair  Mabel's  heart,  that  he  was  the 
romantic  lover  of  whose  life  and  fortune  she  had  been  the  inspi 
ration.  She  was  an  eminently  romantic  girl,  with  all  her  strong 
sense  ;  and  the  devotion  which  had  proved  itself  so  deep  and  con 
trolling  was  in  reality  the  dominant  spell  upon  her  heart.  She 
felt  that  she  must  love  that  man,  whatever  his  outside  might  be, 
and  she  construed  the  impenetrable  silence  of  which  Bellallure 
received  her  occasional  hints  as  to  his  identity,  into  a  magnani 
mous  determination  to  win  her  without  any  advantage  from  the 
roiuance  of  his  position. 

Yet  she  sometimes  wished  it  had  been  Mr.  Blythe  !  The  opin 
ion  of  her  father  had  great  weight  with  her  ;  but,  more  than  that, 
the  felt  instinctively  that  he  was  the  safer  man  to  be  intrusted  with 
a  woman's  happiness.  If  there  had  been  a  doubt — if  her  father 
had  not  assured  her  that  "  Mr.  Blythe  came  of  a  most  respecta 
ble  family" — if  the  secret  had  wavered  between  them — she  would 
have  given  up  to  Bellallure  without  a  sigh.  Blythe  was  every 
thing  she  admired  and  wished  for  in  a  husband — but  the  man  who 
had  made  himself  for  her,  by  a  devotion  unparalleled  even  in  her 
reading  of  fiction,  held  captive  her  dazzled  imagination,  if  not  her 
grateful  heart.  She  made  constant  efforts  to  think  only  of  Bel 
lallure,  but  the  efforts  were  preceded  ominously  with  a  sigh. 

And  now  Bellallure's  star  seemed  in  the  ascendant — for  urgent 


240  FUN   JOTTINGS. 


business  called  Mr.  Wynne  to  the  city,  and  on  the  succeeding  day 
Mr.  Blythe  followed  him,  though  with  an  assurance  of  speedy 
return.  Mabel  was  left  under  the  care  of  an  indulgent  chaperon, 
who  took  a  pleasure  in  promoting  the  happiness  of  the  supposed 
lovers;  and  driving,  lounging,  waltzing,  and  promenading,  Belial- 

0 

lure  pushed  his  suit  with  ardor  unremitted.  He  was  a  skillful 
master  of  the  art  of  wooing,  and  it  would  have  been  a  difficult 
woman  indeed  who  would  not  have  been  pleased  with  his  society 
• — but  the  secret  in  Mabel's  breast  was  the  spell  by  which  he  held 
her. 

A  week  elapsed,  and  Bellallure  pleaded  the  receipt  of  unex 
pected  news,  and  left  suddenly  for  New  York — to  Mabel's  sur 
prise  exacting  no  promise  a;  parting,  though  she  felt  that  she 
should  have  given  it  with  reluctance.  The  mail  of  the  second 
day  following  brought  her  a  brief  letter  from  her  father,  request 
ing  her  immediate  return  ;  and  more  important  still,  a  note  from 
her  incognito  lover.  It  ran  thus  : — 

"  You  will  recognize  my  handwriting  again.  I  have  little  to 
say — for  I  abandon  the  intention  I  had  formed  to  comment  on 
your  apparent  preference.  Your  happiness  is  in  your  own  hands. 
Circumstances  which  will  be  explained  to  you,  and  which  will 
excuse  this  abrupt  forwardness,  compel  me  to  urge  you  to  an  im 
mediate  choice.  On  your  arrival  at  home,  you  will  meet  me  in 
your  father's  house,  whore  I  shall  call  to  await  you.  I  confess, 
tremblingly,  that  I  still  cherish  a  hope.  If  I  am  not  deceived — 
if  you  can  consent  to  love  me — if  my  long  devotion  is  to  be  re 
warded — take  my  hand  when  you  meet  me.  That  moment  will 
decide  the  value  of  my  life.  But  be  prepared  also  to  name 
another,  if  you  love  him — for  there  is  a  necessity,  which  I  cannot 


MABEL  WYNNE  241 


explain  to  you  till  you  have  chosen  your  husband,  that  this  choice 
should  be  made  on  your  arrival.  Trust  and  forgive  one  who  has 
so  long  loved  you!" 

Mabel  pondered  long  on  this  strange  letter.  Her  spirits  at 
moments  revolted  against  its  apparent  dictation,  but  there  was 
the  assurance,  which  she  could  not  resist  trusting,  that  it  could 
be  explained  and  forgiven.  At  all  events,  she  was  at  liberty  to 
fulfill  its  requisitions  or  not — and  she  would  decide  when  the  tiino 
came.  Happy  was  Mabel — unconsciously  happy — in  the  gene 
rosity  and  delicacy  of  her  unnamed  lover  !  Her  father,  by  ono 
of  the  sudden  reverses  of  mercantile  fortune,  had  been  stripped 
of  his  wealth  in  a  day !  Stunned  and  heart-broken,  he  knew  not 
how  to  break  it  to  his  daughter,  but  he  had  written  for  her  to  re 
turn.  His  sumptuous  house  had  been  sold  over  his  head,  yet  the 
purchaser,  whom  he  did  not  know,  had  liberally  offered  the  use 
of  it  till  his  affairs  were  settled.  And,  meantime,  his  ruin  was 
ma  do  public.  The  news  of  it,  indeed,  had  reached  Saratoga  be 
fore  the  departure  of  Mabel — but  there  were  none  willing  to 
wound  her  by  speaking  of  it. 

The  day  was  one  of  the  sweetest  of  summer,  and  as  the  boat 
ploughed  her  way  down  the  Hudson,  Mabel  sat  on  the  deck  lost 
in  thought.  Her  father's  opinion  of  Bellallure,  and  his  probable 
displeasure  at  her  choice,  weighed  uncomfortably  on  her  mind. 
She  turned  her  thoughts  upon  Mr.  Blythe,  and  felt  surprised  at  the 
pleasure  with  which  she  remembered  his  kind  manners  and  his 
trust  inspiring  look.  She  began  to  reason  with  herself  more 
calmly  than  she  had  power  to  do  with  her  lovers  around  her.  She 
confessed  to  herself  that  Bellallure  might  have  the  romantic  per 
il 


242  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


severance  shown  in  the  career  of  the  chimney-sweep,  and  still  be 
deficient  in  qualities  necessary  to  domestic  happiness.  There 
seemed  to  her  something  false  about  Bellallure.  She  could  not 
say  in  what — but  he  had  so  impressed  her.  A  long  day's  silent 
reflection  deepened  this  impression,  and  Mabel  arrived  at  the  city 
with  changed  feelings.  She  prepared  herself  to  meet  him  at  her 
father's  house,  and  show  him  by  her  manner  that  she  could  ac 
cept  neither  his  hand  nor  his  fortune. 

Mr.  Wynne  was  at  the  door  to  receive  his  daughter,  and  Mabel 
felt  relieved,  for  she  thought  that  his  presence  would  bar  all  ex 
planation  between  herself  and  Bellallure.  The  old  man  embraced 
her  with  an  effusion  of  tears,  which  she  did  not  quite  understand, 
but  he  led  her  to  the  drawing-room  and  closed  the  door.  Mr. 
Blythe  stood  before  her  ! 

Forgetting  the  letter — dissociated  wholly  as  it  was,  in  her  mind, 
with  Mr.  Blythe — Mabel  ran  to  him  with  frank  cordiality  and  gave 
him  her  hand  !  Blythe  stood  a  moment — his  band  trembling  in 
hers — and  as  a  suspicion  of  the  truth  flashed  suddenly  on  Mabel's 
mind,  the  generous  lover  drew  her  to  his  bosom  and  folded  her 
passionately  in  his  embrace.  Mabel's  struggles  were  slight,  and 
her  happiness  unexpectedly  complete. 

The  marriage  was  like  other  marriages. 

Mr.  Wynne  had  drawn  a  little  on  his  imagination  in  recom 
mending  Mr.  Blythe  to  his  daughter  as  "  a  young  man  of  most  re 
spectable  family." 

Mr.  Blythe  was  the  purchaser  of  Mr.  Wynne's  superb  house, 
and  the  old  man  ended  his  days  under  its  roof — happy  to  the  last 
in  the  society  of  the  Blythes,  large  and  little.  . 

Mr.  Bellallure  turned  out  to  be  a  clever  adventurer,  and  had 


MABEL  WYNNE.  £43 


Mabel  married  him,  she  would  have  been  Mrs.  Bellallure  No.  2 — 
possibly  No.  4.  He  thought  himself  too  nice  a  young  man  for 
monopoly. 

I  think  my  story  is  told — if  your  imagination  has  filled  up  the 
interstices,  that  is  to  say. 


THE  BANDlf  OF  AUSTRIA, 

"Affection  is  a  fire  which  kindleth  as  well  in  the  bramble  as  in  the  oak,  and  c*tcheth 
hold  where  it  first  lighteth,  not  wliere  it  may  best  burn.  Larks  that  mount  in  the  air 
build  tlieir  nests  below  in  the  earth ;  and  women  that  cast  their  eyes  upon  kings,  may  place 
their  hearts  upon  vassals." — MABLOWB. 

L'ngrement  est  arbitraire :  la  beaute  est  quelque  chose  do  plus  reel  et  de  plus  indepen 
dent  du  gout  ct  de  1'opinion." — LA  BBCTEBE. 

FAST  and  rebukingly  rang  the  matins  from  the  towers  of  St. 
Etienne,  and,  though  unused  to  wake,  much  less  to  pray,  at  that, 
sunrise  hour,  I  felt  a  compunctious  visiting  as  my  postillion 
cracked  his  whip  and  flew  past  the  sacred  threshold,  over  which 
tripped,  as  if  every  stroke  would  be  the  last,  the  tardy  yet  light- 
footed  mass-goers  of  Vienna.  It  was  my  first  entrance  into  this 
Paris  of  Germany,  and  I  stretched  my  head  from  the  window  to 
look  back  with  delight  upon  the  fretted  gothic  pile,  so  cumbered 
with  ornament,  yet  so  light  and  airy — so  vast  in  the  area  it  cov 
ered,  yet  so  crusted  in  every  part  with  delicate  device  and  sculp 
ture.  On  sped  the  merciless  postillion,  and  the  next  moment  we 
rattled  into  the*  court-yard  of  the  hotel. 

I  gave  my  keys  to  the  most  faithful  and  intelligent  of  valets — 
an  English  boy  of  sixteen,  promoted  from  white  top-boots  and  a 
cabriolet  in  London,  to  a  plain  coat  and  almost  his  master's 
friendship  upon  the  continent — and  leaving  him  to  find  rooms  to 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  245 


my  taste,  make  them  habitable  and  get  Dreakfast,  I  retraced  my 
way  to  ramble  a  half  hour  through  the  aisles  of  St.  Etienne. 

The  lingeriHg  bell  was  still  beating  its  quick  and  monotonous 
call,  and  just  before  me,  followed  closely  by  a  female  domestic,  a 
veiled  and  slightly-formed  lady  stepped  over  the  threshold  of  the 
cathedral,  and  took  her  way  by  the  least-frequented  aisle  to  the 
altar.  I  gave  a  passing  glance  of  admiration  at  the  small  ankle 
and  dainty  chaussure  betrayed  by  her  hurried  step  ;  but  remem 
bering  with  a  slight  effort  that  I  had  sought  the  church  with  at 
least  some  feeble  intentions  of  religious  worship,  I  crossed  the 
broad  nave  to  the  opposite  side,  and  was  soon  leaning  against  a 
pillar,  and  listening  to  the  heavenly-breathed  music  of  the  volun 
tary,  with  a  confused,  but  I  trust,  not  altogether  unprofitable  feel 
ing  of  devotion. 

The  peasants,  with  their  baskets  standing  beside  them  on  the 
tesselated  floor,  counted  their  beads  upon  their  knees  ;  the  mur 
mur,  low-toned  and  universal,  rose  through  the  vibrations  of  the 
anthem  with  an  accompaniment  upon  which  I  have  always 
thought  the  great  composers  calculated,  no  less  than  upon  the 
echoing  arches,  and  atmosphere  thickened  with  incense  ;  and  the 
deep-throated  priest  muttered  his  Latin  prayer,  more  edifying  to 
me  that  it  left  my  thoughts  to  their  own  impulses  of  worship,  un- 
dcmeaned  by  the  irresistible  littleness  of  criticism,  and  unchecked 
by  the  narrow  bounds  of  another's  comprehension  of  the  Divinity. 

Without  being  in  any  leaning  of  opinion  a  son  of  the  church  of 
Rome,  I  confess  my  soul  gets  nearer  to  heaven  ;  and  my  religious 
tendencies,  dulled  and  diverted  from  improvement  by  a  life  of 
travel  and  excitement,  are  more  gratefully  ministered  to,  in  the 
indistinct  worship  of  the  catholics.  It  seems  to  me  that  no  man 
can  pray  well  through  the  hesitating  lips  of  another.  The  inflated 


246  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


style  or  rhetorical  efforts  of  many,  addressing  Heaven  with  diffi 
cult  grammar  and  embarrassed  logic — and  the  weary  monotony 
of  others,  repeating  without  interest  and  apparently  without 
thought,  the  most  solemn  appeals  to  the  mercy  of  the  Almighty — 
are  imperfeoi  vehicles,  at  least  to  me,  for  a  fresh  and  apprehen 
sive  spirit  of  worship.  The  religious  architecture  of  the  catholics 
favors  the  solitary  prayer  of  the  heart.  The  vast  floor  of  the 
cathedral,  the  far  receding  aisles  with  their  solemn  light,  to  which 
penetrate  only  the  indistinct  murmur  of  priest  and  penitent,  and 
the  affecting  wail  or  triumphant  hallelujah  of  the  choir  ;  the 
touching  attitudes  and  utter  abandonment  of  all  around  to  their 
unarticulated  devotions;  the  freedom  to  enter  and  depart,  un 
questioned  and  unnoticed,  and  the  wonderful  impressiveness  of 
the  lofty  architecture,  clustered  with  mementoes  of  death,  and 
presenting  through  every  sense,  some  unobtrusive  persuasion  to 
the  duties  of  the  spot — all  these,  I  cannot  but  think,  are  aids, 
not  unimportant  to  devout  feeling,  nor  to  the  most  careless  keeper 
of  his  creed  and  conscience,  entirely  without  salutary  use. 

My  eye  had  been  resting  unconsciously  on  the  drapery  of  a 
statue,  upon  which  the  light  of  a  painted  oriel  window  threw  the 
mingled  dyes  of  a  peacock.  It  was  the  figure  of  an  apostle  ;  and 
curious  at  last  to  see  whence  the  colors  came  which  turned  the 
saintly  garb  into  a  mantle  of  shot  silk,  I  strayed  toward  the  east 
ern  window,  and  was  studying  the  gorgeous  dyes  and  grotesque 
drawing  of  an  art  lost  to  the  world,  when  I  discovered  that  I  was  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  pretty  figure  that  had  tripped  into  church 
so  lightly  before  me.  She  knelt  near  the  altar,  a  little  forward 
from  one  of  the  heavy  gothic  pillars,  with  her  maid  beside  her, 
and,  close  behind  knelt  a  gentleman,  who  I  observed  at  a  second 
glance,  was  paying  his  devotions  exclusively  to  the  small  foot 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  217 

that  peeped  from  the  edge  of  a  snowy  peignoir,  the  dishabille  of 
which  was  covered  and  betrayed  by  a  lace-veil  and  mantle.  As 
I  stood  thinking  what  a  graceful  study  her  figure  would  make 
for  a  sculptor,  and  what  an  irreligious  impertinence  was  visible  in 
the  air  of  the  gentleman  behind,  he  leaned  forward  as  if  to  pros 
trate  his  face  upon  the  pavement,  and  pressed  his  lips  upon  the 
Blender  sole  of  (I  have  no  doubt)  the  prettiest  shoe  in  Vienna. 
The  natural  aversion  which  all  men  have  for  each  other  as  stran 
gers,  was  quickened  in  my  bosom  by  a  feeling  much  more  vivid, 
and  said  to  be  quite  as  natural — resentment  at  any  demonstration 
by  another  of  preference  for  the  woman  one  has  admired.  If  I 
have  not  mistaken  human  nature,  there  is  a  sort  of  imaginary 
property  which  every  man  feels  in  a  woman  he  has  looked  upon 
with  even  the  most  transient  regard,  which  is  violated  malgre  luit 
by  a  similar  feeling  on  the  part  of  any  other  individual. 

Not  sure  that  the  gentleman,  who  had  so  suddenly  become  my 
enemy,  had  any  warrant  in  the  lady's  connivance  for  his  atten 
tions,  I  retreated  to  the  shelter  of  the  pillar,  and  was  presently 
satisfied  that  he  was  as  much  a  stranger  to  her  as  myself,  and 
was  decidedly  annoying  her.  A  slight  advance  in  her  position  to 
escape  his  contact  gave  me  the  opportunity  I  wished,  and  step 
ping  upon  the  small  space  between  the  skirt  of  her  dress  and  the 
outpost  of  his  ebony  cane,  I  began  to  study  the  architecture  of 
the  roof  with  great  seriousness.  The  gothic  order,  it  is  said, 
sprang  from  the  first  attempts  at  constructing  roofs  from  the 
branches  of  trees,  and  is  more  perfect  as  it  imitates  more  closely 
the  natural  wilderness  with  its  tall  tree-shafts  and  interlacing 
limbs.  With  my  eyes  half  shut  I  endeavored  to  transport  my 
self  to  an  American  forest,  and  convert  the  beams  and  angles 
of  this  vast  gothic  structure  into  a  primitive  temple  of  pines,  with 


248  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


the  sunshine  coming  broldngly  through  ;  but  the  delusion,  other 
wise  easy  enough,  was  destroyed  by  the  cherubs  roosting  on  the 
cornices,  and  the  apostles  and  saints  perched  as  it  were  in  the 
branches  ;  and,  spite  of  myself,  I  thought  it  represented  best 
Sbylock's  "  wilderness  of  monkeys." 

"  S'il  vous  plait,  monsieur  /"  said  the  gentleman,  pulling  me 
by  the  pantaloons  as  I  was  losing  myself  in  these  ill-timed  spe 
culations. 

I  looked  down. 

"  Vous  me  gencz,  monsieur  !" 

"  J'en  suis  bien  sure,  monsieur .'" — and  I  resumed  my  study 
of  the  roof,  turning  gradually  round  till  my  heels  were  against 
his  knees,  and  backing  peu-a  pew. 

It  has  often  occurred  to  me  as  a  defect  in  the  system  of  civil 
justice,  that  the  time  of  the  day  at  which  a  crime  is  committed  is 
never  taken  into  account  by  judge  or  jury.  The  humors  of  an 
empty  stomach  act  so  energetically  on  the  judgment  and  temper 
of  a  man,  and  the  same  act  appears  so  differently  to  him,  fasting 
and  full,  that  I  presume  an  inquiry  into  the  subject  would  prove 
that  few  offences  against  law  and  human  pity  were  ever  perpetra 
ted  by  villains  who  had  dined.  In  the  adventure  before  us,  the 
best-disposed  reader  will  condemn  my  interference  in  a  stranger's 
gallantries  as  impertinent  and  quixotic.  Later  in  the  day,  I 
ehould  as  soon  have  thought  of  ordering  water-cresses  for  the 
gentleman's  din'lon  aux  truffe.%. 

I  was  calling  myself  to  account  something  after  the  above 
fashion,  the  gentleman  in  question  standing  near  me,  drumming 
on  his  boot  with  his  ebony  cane,  when  the  lady  roso,  threw  her 
rosary  over  her  neck,  and  turning  to  me  with  a  graceful  smilo, 
courtesied  slightly  and  disappeared.  I  was  struck  so  exceedingly 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  2-19 


with  the  intense  melancholy  in  the  expression  of  the  faco — an 
expression  so  totally  at  variance  with  the  elasticity  of  the  step, 
and  the  promise  of  the  slight  and  riante  figure  and  air — that  I 
quite  forgot  I  had  drawn  a  quarrel  on  myself,  and  was  loitering 
slowly  toward  the  door  of  the  church,  when  the  gentleman  I  had 
offended  touched  me  on  the  arm,  and  in  the  politest  manner  pos 
sible  requested  my  address.  "We  exchanged  cards,  and  I  hastened 
home  to  breakfast,  musing  on  the  facility  with  which  the  current 
of  our  daily  life  may  be  thickened.  I  fancied  I  had  a  new  love 
on  my  hands,  and  I  was  tolerably  sure  of  a  quarrel — yet  I  had 
been  in  Vienna  but  fifty-four  minutes  by  Breguet. 

My  breakfast  was  waiting,  and  Percie  had  found  time  to  turn 
a  comb  through  his  brown  curls,  and  get  the  dust  off  his  gaiters. 
He  was  tall  for  his  age,  and  (unaware  to  himself,  poor  boy!) 
every  word  and  action  reflected  upon  the  handsome  seamstress 
in  Cranbourne  Alley,  whom  he  called  his  mother — for  he  showed 
blood.  His  father  was  a  gentleman,  or  there  is  no  truth  in  tho 
rough-breeding.  As  I  looked  at  him,  a  difficulty  vanished  from 
my  mind. 

"  Percie !" 

"  Sir  !" 

"  Get  into  your  best  suit  of  plain  clothes,  and  if  a  foreigner 
calls  on  me  this  morning,  come  in  and-  forget  that  you  are  valet. 
I  have  occasion  to  use  you  for  a  gentleman." 

"  Yes,  sir  !» 

"  My  pistols  are  clean,  I  presume  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir !" 

I  wrote  a  letter  or  two,  read  a  volume  of  "  Ni  jamais,  ni  tou- 
jours"  and  about  noon  a  captain  of  dragoons  was  announced, 

bringing  me  the  expected  cartel.     Percie  came  in,  treading  gin- 
11* 


250  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


gerly'in  a  pair  of  tight  French  boots,  but  behaving  exceedingly 
like  a  gentleman,  and  after  a  little  conversation,  managed  on  his 
part  strictly  according  to  my  instructions,  he  took  his  cane  and 
walked  off  with  his  friend  of  the  steel  scabbard  to  become  ac 
quainted  with  the  ground. 

The  gray  of  a  heavenly  summer  morning  was  brightening 
above  the  chimneys  of  the  fair  city  of  Vienna  as  I  stepped  into  a 
calecke,  followed  by  Percie.  With  a  special  passport  (procured 
by  the  politeness  of  my  antagonist)  we  made  our  sortie  at  that 
early  hour  from  the  gates,  and  crossing  the  glacis,  took  the  road 
to  the  banks  of  the  Danube.  It  was  but  a  mile  from  the  city, 
and  the  mist  lay  low  on  the  face  of  the  troubled  current  of  the 
river,  while  the  towers  and  pinnacles  of  the  silent  capital  cut  the 
eky  in  clear  and  sharp  lines — as  if  tranquillity  and  purity,  those 
immaculate  hand-maidens  of  nature,  had  tired  of  innocence  and 
their  mistress — and  slept  in  town  ! 

I  had  taken  some  coffee  and  broiled  chicken  before  starting, 
and  (removed  thus  from  the  category  of  the  savage  unbreakfast- 
ed)  I  was  in  one  of  those  moods  of  universal  benevolence,  said 
(erroneously)  to  be  produced  only  by  a  clean  breast  of  milk  diet. 
I  could  have  wept,  with  Wordsworth,  over  a  violet. 

My  opponent  was  there  with  his  dragoon,  and  Percie,  cool  and 
gentleman  like,  like  a  man  who  "had  served,"  looked  on  at  the 
loading  of  the  pistols,  and  gave  me  mine  with  a  very  firm  hand, 
but  with  a  moisture  and  anxiety  in  his  eye  which  I  have  remem 
bered  since.  We  were  to  fire  any  time  after  the  counting  of 
three,  and  having  no  malice  against  my  friend,  whose  imperti 
nence  to  a  lady  was  (really  !)  no  business  of  mine,  I  intended,  of 
course,  to  throw  away  my  fire. 

The  first  word  was  given  and  I  looked  at  my  antagonist,  who, 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  251 

I  saw  at  a  glance,  had  no  such  gentle  intentions.  He  was  taking 
deliberate  aim,  and  in  the  four  seconds  that  elapsed  between  tho 
remaining  two  words,  I  changed  my  mind  (one  thinks  so  fast  when 
his  leisure  is  limited  !)  at  least  twenty  times  whether  I  should  fire 
at  him  or  no- 

"  Trois  /"  pronounced  the  dragoon,  from  a  throat  like  a  trom 
bone,  and  with  the  last  thought,  up  flew  my  hand,  and  as  my  pis 
tol  discharged  in  the  air,  my  friend's  shot  struck  upon  a  large 
turquoise  which  I  wore  on  my  third  finger,  and  drew  a  slight 
pencil-line  across  my  left  organ  of  causality.  It  was  well  aimed 
for  my  temple,  but  the  ring  had  saved  me. 

Friend  of  those  days,  regretted  and  unforgotten  !  days  of  the 
deepest  sadness  and  heart-heaviness,  yet  somehow  dearer  in 
remembrance  than  all  the  joys  I  can  recall — there  was  a  talisman 
in  thy  parting  gift  thou  didst  not  think  would  be,  one  day,  my 
angel  ! 

"  You  will  be  able  to  wear  your  hair  over  the  scar,  sir  !"  said 
Percie,  coming  up  and  putting  his  finger  on  the  wound. 

"  Monsieur  !"  said  the  dragoon,  advancing  to  Percie  after  a 
short  conference  with  his  principal,  and  looking  twice  as  fierce 
as  before.  , 

"  Monsieur!"  said  Percie,  wheeling  short  upon  him. 

"  My  friend  is  not  satisfied.  He  presumes  that  monsieur 
V Anglais  wishos  to  trifle  with  him." 

"  Then  let  your  friend  take  care  of  himself,"  said  I,  roused  by 
the  unprovoked  murderousness  of  the  feeling.  "  Load  the  pistols, 
Percie  !  In  my  country,"  I  continued,  turning  to  the  dragoon, 
"  a  man  is  disgraced  who  fires  twice  upon  an  antagonist  who  hag 
spared  him  !  Your  friend  is  a  ruffian,  and  the  consequences  bo 
on  his  own  haed  !" 


252  *"UN  JOTTINGS. 


We  took  our  places  and  the  first  word  was  given,  when  a  man 
dashed  between  us  on  horseback  at  top-speed.  The  violence  with 
which  he  drew  rein  brought  his  horse  upon  his  haunches,  and  he 
was  on  his  feet  in  half  a  breath. 

The  idea  that  he  was  an  officer  of  the  police  was  immediately 
dissipated  by  his  step  and  air.  Of  the  finest  athletic  form  I  had 
ever  seen,  agile,  graceful,  and  dressed  pointedly  well,  there  was 
still  an  indefinable  something  about  him,  either  above  or  below  a 
gentleman — which,  it  was  difficult  to  say..  His  features  were 
slight,  fair,  and,  except  a  brow  too  heavy  for  them  and  a  lip  of 
singular  and  (I  thought)  habitual  defiance,  almost  feminine.  His 
hair  grew  long  and  had  been  soigne,  probably  by  more  caressing 
fingors  than  his  own,  and  his  rather  silken  mustache  was  glossy 
with  some  odorent  oil.  As  he  approached  me  and  took  my  hand, 
with  a  clasp  like  a  smith's  vice,  I  observed  these  circumstances, 
and  could  have  drawn  his  portrait  without  ever  seeing  him  again — 
BO  marked  a  man  was  he,  in  every  point  and  feature. 

His  business  was  soon  explained.  He  was  the  husband  of  the 
lady  my  opponent  had  insulted,  and  that  pleasant  gentleman 
could,  of  course,  make  no  objection  to  his  taking  my  place.  I 
officiated  as  temoin,  and,  as  they  took  their  position,  I  anticipated 
for  the  dragoon  and  myself  the  trouble  of  carrying  them  both  off 
the  field.  I  had  a  practical  assurance  of  my  friend's  pistol,  and 
the  stranger  was  not  the  looking  man  to  miss  a  hair's  breadth  of 
his  aim. 

The  word  was  not  fairly  off  my  lips  when  both  pistols  cracked 
like  one  discharge,  and  high  into  the  air  sprang  my  revengeful 
opponent,  and  dropped  like  a  clod  upon  the  grnss.  The  stranger 
opened  his  waistcoat,  thrust  his  fore-finger  into  a  wound  in  his 
left  breast,  and  slightly  closing  his  teeth,  pushed  a  bullet  through, 


THE  BAJNTDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  253 


which  had  been  checked  by  the  bone  and  lodged  in  the  flesh  near 
the  skin.  The  surgeon  who  had  accompanied  my  unfortunate 
antagonist,  left  the  body,  which  he  had  found  beyond  his  art,  and 
readily  gave  his  assistance  to  stanch  the  blo6d  of  my  preserver  ; 
and  jumping  with  the  latter  into  my  caleche,  I  put  Percie  upon 
the  stranger's  horse,  and  we  drove  back  to  Vienna. 

The  market  people  were  crowding  in  at  the  gate,  the  merry 
peasant  girls  glanced  at  us  with  their  blue,  German  eyes,  the 
shopmen  laid  out  their  gay  wares  to  the  street,  and  the  tide  of 
life  ran  on  as  busily  and  as  gayly,  though  a  drop  had  been  ex 
tracted,  within  scarce  ten  minutes,  from  its  quickest  vein.  I  felt 
a  revulsion  at  ray  heart,  and  grew  faint  and  sick.  Is  a  human 
life — is  my  life  worth  anything,  even  a  thought,  to  my  fellow- 
creatures  ?  was  the  bitter  question  forced  upon  my  soul.  How 
icily  and  keenly  the  unconscious  indifference  of  the  world  pene 
trates  to  the  nerve  and  marrow  of  him  who  suddenly  realizes  it. 

We  dashed  through  the  kohl-market,  and  driving  into  the  porte- 
cochere  of  a  dark-looking  house  in  one  of  the  cross  streets  of  that 
quarter,  were  ushered  into  apartments  of  extraordinary  magnifi 
cence. 


254  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


CHAPTEK  IL 

"  WHAT  do  you  want,  Percie  f" 

He  was  walking  into  the  room  with  all  the  deliberate  politeness 
of  a  "  gold-stick-in- waiting." 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sir,  but  I  was  asked  to  walk  up,  and  I  was  not 
sure  whether  I  was  still  a  gentleman." 

It  instantly  struck  me  that  it  might  seem  rather  infra  dig  to 
the  chevalier  (my  new  friend  had  thus  announced  himself)  to  have 
had  a  valet  for  a  second,  and  as  he  immediately  after  entered  the 
room,  having  stepped  below  to  give  orders  about  his  horse,  I  pre 
sented  Percie  as  a  gentleman  and  my  friend,  and  resumed  my  ob 
servation  of  the  singular  apartment  in  which  I  found  myself. 

The  effect  on  coming  first  in  at  the  door,  was  that  of  a  small 
and  lofty  chapel,  where  the  light  struggled  in  from  an  unseen 
aperture  above  the  altar.  There  were  two  windows  at  the  far 
ther  extremity,  but  curtained  so  heavily,  and  set  so  deeply  iuto 
the  wall,  that  I  did  not  at  first  observe  the  six  richly-carpeted 
steps  which  led  up  to  them,  nor  the  luxuriously  cushioned  seats 
on  either  side  of  the  casement,  within  the  niche,  for  those  who 
would  mount  thither  for  fresh  air.  The  walls  were  tapestried, 
but  very  ragged  and  dusty,  and  the  floor,  though  there  were  seve 
ral  thicknesses  of  the  heavy-piled,  small,  Turkey  carpets  laid 
loosely  over  it,  was  irregular  and  sunken.  The  corners  were 
heaped  with  various  articles  I  could  not  at  first  distinguish.  My 
host  fortunately  gave  me  an  opportunity  to  gratify  my  curiosity 
by  frequent  absences,  under  the  housekeeper's  apology  (odd  I 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  £55 


thought  for  a  chevalier)  of  expediting  breakfast ;  and  with  the 
aid  of  Percic,  I  tumbled  his  chattels  about  with  all  necessary 
freedom. 

"  That,"  said  the  chevalier,  entering,  as  I  turned  out  the  face 
of  a  fresh  colored  picture  to  the  light,  "  is  a  capo  d'opera  of  a 
French  artist,  who  painted  it,  as  you  may  say,  by  the  gleam  of 
the  dagger." 

"  A  cool  light,  as  a  painter  would  say  !" 

"  He  was  a  cool  fellow,  sir,  and  would  have  handled  a  broad 
sword  better  than  a  pencil."  ' 

Percie  stepped  up  while  I  was  examining  the  exquisite  finish 
of  the  picture,  and  asked  very  respectfully  if  the  chevalier  would 
give  him  the  particulars  of  the  story.  It  was  a  full  length  por 
trait  of  a  young  and  excessively  beautiful  girl,  of  apparently 
scarce  fifteen,  entirely  nude,  and  lying  upon  a  black  velvet  couch, 
with  one  foot  laid  on  a  broken  diadem,  and  her  right  hand  press 
ing  a  wild  rose  to  her  heart. 

"  It  was  the  fancy,  sir,"  continued  the  chevalier,  "  of  a  bold 
outlaw,  who  loved  the  only  daughter  of  a  noble  of  Hungary." 

"  Is  this  the  lady,  sir  ?"  asked  Percie,  in  his  politest  valet 
French. 

The  chevalier  hesitated  a  moment  and  looked  over  his  shoul 
der,  as  if  he  might  be  overheard. 

"  This  is  she — copied  to  the  minutest  shadow  of  a  hair !  He 
was  a  bold  outlaw,  gentlemen,  and  had  plucked  the  lady  from  her 
father's  castle  with  his  own  hand." 

"  Against  her  will  ?"  interrupted  Percie,  rather  energetically. 

"  No  !"  scowled  the  chevalier,  as  if  his  lowering  brows  had 
articulated  the  word,  "  by  her  own  will  and  connivance  ;  for  she 
loved  him." 


256  FUN  JOTTINGS 

Percie  drew  a  long  breath,  and  looked  more  closely  at  the  taper 
liuibs  and  the  exquisitely-chiselled  features  of  the  face,  which 
was  turned  over  the  shoulder  with  a  look  of  tiurid  shame  inimita 
bly  true  to  nature. 

"  She  loved  him,"  continued  our  fierce  narrator,  who,  I  almost 
began  to  suspect  was  the  outlaw  himself,  by  the  energy  with 
which  he  enforced  the  tale,  "  and  after  a  moonlight  ramble  or 
two  with  him  in  the  forest  of  her  father's  domain,  she  fled  and 
became  his  wife.  You  are  admiring  the  hair,  sir  !  It  is  as  lux 
uriant  and  glossy  now !" 

"If  you  please,  sir,  it  is  the  villain  himself!"  said  Percie  in 
an  undertone. 

"  Href,"  continued  the  chevalier,  either  not  understanding 
English  or  not  heeding  the  interruption,  "  an  adventurous  painter, 
one  day  hunting  the  picturesque  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  out 
law's  retreat,  surprised  this  fair  creature  bathing  in  one  of  the 
loneliest  mountain-streams  in  Hungary.  His  art  appeared  to  be 
his  first  passion,  for  he  hid  himself  in  the  trees  and  drew  her  as 
she  stood  dallying  on  the  margin  of  the  small  pool  in  which  the 
brook  loitered  ;  and  so  busy  was  he  with  his  own  work,  or  so  soft 
was  the  mountain  moss  under  its  master's  tread,  that  the  outlaw 
looked,  unperceived  the  while,  over  his  shoulder,  and  fell  in  love 
anew  with  the  admirable  counterfeit.  She  looked  like  a  naiad, 
sir,  new  born  of  a  dew-drop  and  a  violet." 

I  nodded  an  assent  to  Percie. 

"  The  sketch,  excellent  as  it  seemed,  was  still  unfinished,  when 
the  painter,  enamored  as  he  might  well  be,  of  these  sweet  limbs, 
glossy  with  the  shining  water,  flung  down  his  book  and  sprang 
toward  her.  The  outlaw " 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  £57 


"  Struck  him  to  the  heart  ?  Oh  Heaven  !"  said  Percie,  cover 
ing  his  eyes  as  if  he  could  see  the  murder. 

"  No  !  he  was  a  student  of  the  human  soul,  and  deferred  his 
vengeance." 

Percie  looked  up  and  listened,  like  a  man  whose  wits  were  per 
fectly  abroad. 

"  He  was  not  unwilling ,  since  her  person  had  been  seen  irre 
trievably,  to  know  how  his  shrinking  Iminild  (this  was  her 
name  of  melody)  would  have  escaped  had  she  been  found  alone." 

"  The  painter" — prompted  Percie,  impatient  for  the  sequel. 

"  The  painter  flew  over  rock  and  brake,  and  sprang  into  the 
pool  in  which  she  was  half  immersed  ;  and  my  brave  girl- " 

He  hesitated,  for  he  had  betrayed  himself. 

"  Ay — she  is  mine,  gentlemen ;  and  I  am  Yvain,  the  outlaw— 
my  brave  wife,  I  say,  with  a  single  bound,  leaped  to  the  rock  where 
her  dress  was  concealed,  seized  a  short  spear  which  she  used  as  a 
staff  in  her  climbing  rambles,  and  struck  it  through  his  shoulder 
as  he  pursued !'' 

'  Bravely  done  !"  I  thought  aloud. 

"  Was  it  not  ?  I  came  up  the  next  moment,  but  the  spear 
stuck  in  his  shoulder,  and  I  could  not  fall  upon  a  wounded  man. 
We  carried  him  to  our  ruined  castle  in  the  mountains,  and  while 
my  Iminild  cured  her  own  wound,  I  sent  for  his  paints,  and  let 
him  finish  his  bold  beginning  with  a  difference  of  my  own.  You 
see  the  picture." 

"  Was  the  painter's  love  cured  with  his  wound  !"  I  asked  with 
a  smile. 

"  No,  by  St.  Stephen  !  He  grew  ten  times  more  enamored  as 
he  drew.  He  was  as  fierce  as  a  weli  hawk,  and  as  willing  to 
quarrel  for  his  prey.  I  could  have  driven  my  dagger  to  his  heart 


258  -FUN  JOTTINGS. 


a  hundred  times  for  the  mutter  of  his  lips  and  the  flash  of  his 
dark  eyes  as  he  fed  his  gaze  upon  her  ;  but  he  finished  the  pic 
ture,  and  I  gave  him  a  fair  field.  He  chose  the  broad-sword,  and 
hacked  away  at  me  like  a  man." 

"  And  the  result" — I  asked/ 

"  I  am  here  !"  replied  the  outlaw  significantly. 

Percie  leaped  upon  the  carpeted  steps,  and  pushed  back  the 
window  for  fresh  air  ;  and,  for  myself,  I  scarce  knew  how  to  act 
tinder  the  roof  of  a  man,  who,  though  he  confessed  himself  an  out 
law  and  almost  an  assassin,  was  bound  to  me  by  the  ties  of  our 
own  critical  adventure,  and  had  confided  his  condition  to  me  with 
BO  ready  a  reliance  on  my  honor.  In  the  midst  of  my  dilemma, 
while  I  was  pretending  to  occupy  myself  with  examining  a  silver 
mounted  and  peaked  saddle,  which  I  found  behind  the  picture 
in  the  corner,  a  deep  and  unpleasant  voice  announced  breakfast 

"  Wolfen  is  rather  a  grim  chamberlain,"  said  the  chevalier, 
bowing  with  the  grace  and  smile  of  the  softest  courtier,  "  but  he 
will  usher  you  to  breakfast,  and  I  am  sure  you  stand  in  need  of  it. 
For  myself,  I  could  eat  worse  meat  than  my  grandfather,  with 
this  appetite." 

Percie  gave  me  a  look  of  inquiry  and  uneasiness  when  he  found 
we  were  to  follow  the  rough  domestic  through  the  dark  corridors 
of  the  old  house,  and  through  his  under-bred  politeness  of  insist 
ing  on  following  his  host,  I  could  sco  that  he  was  unwilling  to 
trust  the  outlaw  with  the  rear ;  but  a  massive  and  broad  door, 
flung  open  at  the  end  of  the  passage,  let  in  upon  us  presently  the 
cool  and  fresh  air  from  a  northern  exposure,  and  stepping  forward 
quickly  to  the  threshold,  we  beheld  a  picture  which  changed  the 
curreat  and  color  of  our  thoughts. 

In  the  bottom  of  an  excavated  area,  which,  as  well  as  I  could 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  259 


judge,  must  be  forty  feet  below  the  level  of  the  court,  lay  a  small 
arid  antique  garden,  brilliant  with  the  most  costly  flowers,  and 
cooled  by  a  fountain  gushing  from  under  the  foot  of  a  nymph  in 
marble.  The  spreading  tops  of  six  alleys  of  lindens  reaching  to 
the  level  of  the  street,  formed  a  living  roof  to  the  grot-like  depths 
of  the  garden,  and  concealed  it  from  all  view  but  that  of  persons 
descending  like  ourselves  from  the  house ;  while,  instead  of  walls 
to  shut  in  this  paradise  in  the  heart  of  a  city,  Rharply  inclined 
slopes  of  green-sward  leaned  in  under  the  branches  of  the  lindens, 
and  completed  the  fairy-like  enclosure  of  shade  and  ve*?3ure.  As 
we  descended  the  rose-laden  steps  and  terraces,  I  observed,  that, 
of  the  immense  profusion  of  flowers  in  the  area  below,  nearly  all 
were  costly  exotics,  whose  pots  were  set  in  the  earth,  and  proba 
bly  brought  away  from  the  sunshine  only  when  in  high  bloom ; 
and  as  we  rounded  the  spreading  basin  of  the  fountain  which 
broke  the  perspective  of  the  alley,  a  table,  which  had  been  con 
cealed  by  the  marble  nymph,  and  a  skilfully-disposed  array  of 
rhododendrons,  lay  just  beneath  our  feet,  while  a  lady,  whose  fea 
tures  I  could  not  fail  to  remember,  smiled  up  from  her  couch  of 
crimson  cushions  and  gave  us  a  graceful  welcome. 

The  same  taste  for  depth  which  had  been  shown  in  the  room 
sunk  below  the  windows,  and  the  garden  below  the  street,  was 
continued  in  the  kind  of  marble  divan  in  which  we  were  to  break 
fast.  Four  steps  descending  from  the  pavement  of  the  alley  in 
troduced  us  into  a  circular  excavation,  whose  marble  seats,  cov 
ered  with  cushions  of  crimson  silk,  surrounded  a  table  laden  with 
the  substantial  viands  wbich  are  common  to  a  morning  meal  in 
Vienna,  and  smoking  with  coffee  whose  aroma  (Percie  agreed  with 
me)  exceeded  even  the  tube  roses  in  grateful  sweetness.  Between 
the  cushions  at  our  backs  and  the  pavements  just  above  the  level  of 


2GO.  FUN   JOTTINGS. 


our  heads,  were  piled  circles  of  thickly  flowering  geraniums,  which 
enclosed  us  in  rings  of  perfume,  and,  pouring  from  the  cup  of  a 
sculptured  flower,  held  in  the  hand  of  the  nymph,  a  smooth  stream 
like  a  silver  rod  supplied  a  channel  grooved  around  the  centre  of 
the  marble  table,  through  which  the  bright  water,  with  the  im 
pulse  of  its  descent,  made  a  swift  revolution  and  disappeared. 

It  was  a  scene  to  give  memory  the  lie  if  it  could  have  recalled 
the  bloodshed  of  the  morning.  The  green  light  flecked  down 
through  the  lofty  roof  upon  the  glittering  and  singing  water ;  a 
nightingale  in  a  recess  of  the  garden,  gurgled  through  his  wires 
as  if  intoxicated  with  the  congenial  twilight  of  his  prison  ;  the 
heavy-cupped  flowers  of  the  tropics  nodded  with  the  rain  of  the 
fountain  spray.  The  distant  roll  of  wheels  in  the  neighboring 
streets  came  with  an  assurance  of  reality  to  this  dream-land,  yet 
softened  by  the  unreverberating  roof  and  an  air  crowded  with 
flowers  and  trembling  "with  the  pulsations  of  falling  water.  The 
lowering  forehead  of  the  outlaw  cleared  up  like  a  sky  of  June 
after  a  thunder-shower,  and  his  voice  grew  gentle  and  caressing ; 
and  the  delicate  mistress  of  all  (by  birth,  Countess  Iminild),  a 
creature  as  slight  as  Psyche,  and  as  white  as  the  lotus,  whose 
flexile  stem  served  her  for  a  bracelet,  welcomed  us  with  her  soft 
voice  and  humid  eyes,  and  saddened  by  the  event  of  the  morning, 
looked  on  her  husband  with  a  tenderness  that  would  have  assoiled 
her  of  her  sins  against  delicacy,  I  thought,  even  in  the  mind  of 
an  angel. 

"  We  live,  like  truth,  here,  in  the  bottom  of  a  well,"  said  the 
countess  to  Percie,  as  she  gave  him  his  coffee  ;  "  how  do  you  like 
my  whimsical  abode,  sir  ?" 

"  I  should  like  any  place  where  you  were,  Miladi !"  he  answered, 
blushing  and  stealing  hia  eyes  across  at  me,  either  in  doubt  how 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  261 


far  he  might  presume  upon  his  new  character,  or  suspecting  that 
I  should  smile  at  his  gallantry. 

The  outlaw  glanced  his  eyes  over  the  curling  head  of  the  boy, 
with  one  of  those  just  perceptible  smiles  which  developed,  oc 
casionally,  in  great  beauty,  the  gentle  spirit  in  his  bosom  ;  and 
Iminild,  pleased  with  the  compliment  or  the  blush,  threw  off  her 
pensive  mood,  and  assumed,  in  an  instant,  the  coquettish  air  which 
had  attracted  my  notice  as  she  stepped  before  me  into  the  church 
of  St.  Etienne. 

"  You  had  hard  work,"  she  said,  "  to  keep  up  with  your  long- 
legged  dragoon  yesterday,  Monsieur  Percie  !" 

"  Miladi :"  he  answered,  with  a  look  of  inquiry. 

"  Oh,  I  was  behind  you,  and  my  legs  are  not  much  longer  than 
yours.  How  he  strided  away  with  his  long  spurs,  to  be  sure  !  Do 
you  remember  a  smart  young  gentleman  with  a  blue  cap  that 
walked  past  you  on  the  glacis  occasionally  ?" 

"  Ah,  with  laced  boots,  like  a  Hungarian  ?" 

"  I  see  I  am  ever  to  be  known  by  my  foot,"  said  she,  putting 
it  out  upon  the  cushion,  and  turning  it  about  with  naive  admira 
tion  ;  "  that  poor  captain  of  the  imperial  guard  paid  dearly  for 
kissing  it,  holy  virgin !"  and  she  crossed  herself  and  was  silent 
for  a  moment. 

"  If  I  might  take  the  freedom,  chevalier,"  I  said,  "  pray  how 
came  I  indebted  to  your  assistance  in  this  affair?" 

"  Iminild  has  partly  explained,"  he  answered.  "  She  knew,  of 
course,  that  a  challenge  would  follow  your  interference,  and  it 
was  very  easy  to  know  that  an  officer  of  some  sort  would  take  a 
message  in  the  course  of  the  morning  to  Le  Prince  Charles,  the 
only  hotel  frequented  by  the  English  d'un  certain  gens. 

I  bowed  to  the  compliment. 


262  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


"  Arriving  in  Vienna  late  last  night,  I  found  Iminild  (who  had 
followed  this  gentleman  and  the  dragoon  unperceived)  in  posses 
sion  of  all  the  circumstances ;  and,  but  for  oversleeping  myself 
this  morning,  I  should  have  saved  your  turquoise,  vnon  seigneur  /" 

"  Have  you  lived  here  long,  Miladi  ?"  asked  Percie,  looking  up 
into  her  eyes  with  an  unconscious  passionateness  which  made  the 
countess  Iminild  color  slightly,  and  bite  her  lips  to  retain  an  ex 
pression  of  pleasure. 

"  I  have  not  lived  long  anywhere,  sir !"  she  answered  half 
archly,  "but  I  played  in  this  garden  when  not  much  older  than 
you!" 

Percie  looked  confused  and  pulled  up  his  cravat. 

"  This  house,''  said  the  chevalier,  willing  apparently  to  spare 
the  countess  a  painful  narration,  "  is  the  property  of  the  old  count 
Ildefert,  my  wife's  father.  He  has  long  ceased  to  visit  Vienna, 
and  has  left  it,  he  supposes,  to  a  stranger.  When  Iminild  tires 
of  the  forest,  she  comes  here,  and  I  join  her  if  I  can  find  time. 
I  must  to  the  saddle  to-morrow,  by  St.  Jacques  !" 

The  word  had  scarce  died  on  his  lips  when  the  door  by  which 
we  had  entered  the  garden  was  flung  open,  and  the  measured 
tread  of  gens-d'armes  resounded  in  the  corridor.  The  first  man 
who  stood  out  upon  the  upper  terrace  was  the  dragoon"  who  had 
been  second  to  my  opponent. 

"  Traitor  and  villain  !"  muttered  the  outlaw  between  his  teeth, 
"  I  thought  I  remembered  you  !  It  is  that  false  comrade  Berthold, 
Iminild !'' 

Yvain  had  risen  from  the  table  as  if  but  to  stretch  his  legs ; 
and  drawing  a  pistol  from  his  bosom  he  cocked  it  as  he  quietly 
stepped  up  into  the  garden.  I  saw  at  a  glance  that  there  was  no 
chance  for  his  escape,  and  laid  my  hand  on  his  arm. 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  263 


"  Chevalier  !"  I  said,  "  surrender,  and  trust  to  opportunity.  It 
is  madness  to  resist  here.'' 

"  Yvain"  said  Iminild,  in  a  low  voice,  flying  to  his  side  as  she 
comprehended  his  intention,  "  leave  me  that  vengeance,  and  try 
the  parapet.  I'll  kill  him  before  he  sleeps !  Quick !  Ah, 
Heavens  !'J 

The  dragoon  had  turned  at  that  instant  to  fly,  and  with  sud 
denness  of  thought  the  .pistol  flashed,  and  the  traitor  dropped 
heavily  on  the  terrace.  Springing  like  a  cat  up  the  slope  of 
green  sward,  Yvain  stood  an  instant  on  the  summit  of  the  wall, 
hesitating  where  to  jump  beyond,  and  in  the  next  moment  rolled 
heavily  back,  stabbed  through  and  through  with  a  bayonet  from 
the  opposite  side. 

The  blood  left  the  lips  and  cheek  of  Iminild ;  but  without  a 
word  or  a  sign  of  terror,  she  sprang  to  the  side  of  the  fallen  out 
law  and  lifted  him  up  against  her  knee.  The  gens-d'armes  rushed 
to  the  spot,  but  the  subaltern  who  commanded  them  yielded  in 
stantly  to  my  wish  that  they  should  retire  to  the  skirts  of  the 
garden ;  and  sending  Percie  to  the  fountain  for  water,  we  bathed 
the  lips  and  forehead  of  the  dying  man  and  set  him  against  the 
sloping  parapet.  With  one  hand  grasping  the  dress  of  Iminild 
and  the  other  clasped  in  mjne,  he  struggled  to  speak. 

"  The  cross  P  he  gasped,  "  the  cross  !" 

lu.inild  drew  a  silver  crucifix  from  her  bosom. 

"  Swear  on  this,"  he  said,  putting  it  to  my  lips  and  speaking 
with  terrible  energy,  "  swear  that  you  will  protect  her  while  you 
live !" 

"  I  swear!" 

He  shut  our  hands  together  convulsively,  gasped  slightly  as  if 


264  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


he  would  speak  again,  and,  in  another  instant,  sunk,  relaxed  and 
lifeless,  on  the  shoulder  of  Jminild. 


CHAPTEK  IE. 

THE  fate  and  history  of  Yvain,  the  outlaw,  became,  on  the 
following  day,  the  talk  of  Vienna.  He  had  been  long  known  as 
the  daring  horse-stealer  of  Hungary;  and,  though  it  was  not 
doubted  that  his  sway  was  exercised  over  plunderers  of  every  de 
scription,  even  pirates  upon  the  high  seas,  his  own  courage  and 
address  were  principally  applied  to  the  robbery  of  the  well-guarded 
steeds  of  the  emperor  and  his  nobles.  It  was  said  that  there  was 
not  a  horse  in  the  dominions  of  Austria  whose  qualities  and  breed 
ing  were  not  known  to  him,  nor  one  he  cared  to  have  which  was 
not  in  his  concealed  stables  in  the  forest.  The  most  incredible 
etories  were  told  of  hi*  horsemanship.  He  would  so  disguise  the 
animal  on  which  he  rode,  either  by  forcing  him  into  new  paces  or 
by  other  arts  only  known  to  himself,  tbat  he  would  make  the  tour 
of  the  Glacis  on  the  emperor's  best  horse,  newly  stolen,  unsus 
pected  even  by  the  royal  grooms.  The  roadsters  of  his  own  troop 
were  the  best  steeds  bred  on  the  banks  of  the  Danube  ;  but 
although  always  in  the  highest  condition,  they  would  never  have 
been  suspected  to  have  been  worth  a  florin  till  put  upon  their 
mettle.  The  extraordinary  escapes  of  his  band  from  the  vigilant, 
and  well  mounted  gens-d'armes  were  thus  accounted  for ;  and,  in 
most  of  the  villages  in  Austria,  the  people,  on  some  market-day 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  265 


or  other,  had  seen  a  body  of  apparently  ill-mounted  peasants 
suddenly  start  off  with  the  speed  of  lightning  at  the  appearance 
of  gens-d'armes,  and,  flying  over  fence  and  wall,  draw  a  straight 
course  for  the  mountains,  distancing  their  pursuers  with  the  ease 
of  swallows  on  the  wing. 

After  the  death  of  Yvain  in  the  garden,  I  had  been  forced 
with  Percie  into  a  carriage,  standing  in  the  court,  and  accom 
panied  by  a  guard,  driven  to  my  hotel,  where  I  was  given  to  un 
derstand  that  I  was  to  remain  under  arrest  till  further  orders.  A 
sentinel  at  the  door  forbade  all  ingress  or  egress  except  to  the 
people  of  the  house ;  a  circumstance  which  was  only  distressing 
to  me,  as  it  precluded  my  inquiries  after  the  countess  Iminild,  of 
whom  common  rumor,  the  servants  informed  me,  made  not  the 
slightest  mention. 

Four  days  after  this,  on  the  relief  of  the  guard  at  noon,  a  sub 
altern  entered  niy  room  and  informed  me  that  I  was  at  liberty.  I 
instantly  made  preparations  to  go  out,  and  was  drawing  on  my 
boots,  when  Percie,  who  had  not  yet  recovered  from  the  shock  of 
his  arrest,  entered  in  some  alarm,  and  informed  me  that  one  of 
the  royal  grooms  was  in  the  court  with  a  letter,  which  he  would 
deliver  only  into  my  own  hands.  He  had  orders  beside,  he  said, 
not  to  leave  his  saddle.  Wondering  what  new  leaf  of  my  destiny 
was  to  turn  over.  I  went  below  and  received  a  letter,  with  ap 
parently  the  imperial  seal,  from  a  well-dressed  groom  in  the  livery 
of  the  emperor's  brother,  the  king  of  Hungary.  He  was  mounted 
on  a  compact,  yet  fine-limbed  horse,  and  both  horse  and  rider 
were  as  still  as  if  cut  in  marble. 

I  returned  to  my  room  and  broke  the  seal.  It  was  a  letter 
from  Iminild,  and  the  bold  bearer  was  an  outlaw  disguised !  She 

had  heard  that  I  was  to  be  released  that  morning,  and  desired 
12 


266  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


me  to  ride  out  on  the  road  to  Gratz.     In  a  postcript  she  begged 
I  would  request  Monsieur  Percie  to  accompany  me. 

I  sent  for  horses,  and  wishing  to  be  left  to  my  owu  thoughts, 
ordered  Percie  to  fall  behind,  and  rode  slowly  out  of  the  southern 
gate.  If  the  countess  Iminild  were  safe,  I  had  enough  of  the  adven 
ture  for  my  taste.  My  oath  bound  me  to  protect  this  wild  and 
unsexed  woman,  but  farther  intercourse  with  a  band  of  outlaws, 
or  farther  peril  of  my  head  for  no  reason  that  either  a  court  of 
gallantry  or  of  justice  would  recognize,  was  beyond  my  usual 
programme  of  pleasant  events.  The  road  was  a  gentle  ascent, 
and  with  the  bridle  on  the  neck  of  my  hack  I  paced  thoughtfully 
on,  till,  at  a  slight  turn,  we  stood  at  a  fair  height  above  Vienna. 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  city,  sir,"  said  Percie,  riding  up. 

"  How  the  deuce  could  she  have  escaped r"  said  I,  thinking 
aloud. 

"  Has  she  escaped,  sir  ?  Ah,  thank  Heaven  !"  exclaimed  the 
passionate  boy,  the  tears  rushing  to  his  eyes 

"  Why,  Percie  !"  I  said  with  a  toue'of  surprise  which  called  a 
blush  into  his  face,  "  have  you  really  found  leisure  to  fall  in  love 
amid  all  this  imbroglio  ?" 

"  I  beg  pardon,  my  dear  master  !"  he  replied  in  a  confused 
voice,  "  I  scarce  know  what  it  is  to  fall  in  love  ;  but  I  would  die 
for  Miladi  Iminild." 

"  Not  at  all  an  impossible  sequel,  my  poor  boy  !  But  wheel 
about  and  touch  your  hat,  for  here  comes  some  one  of  the  royal 
family !" 

A  horseman  was  approaching  at  an  easy  canter,  over  the 
broad  and  unfenced  plain  of  table-land  which  overlooks  Vienna 
on  the  south,  attended  by  six  mounted  servants  in  the  white  ker- 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  267 


soymere  frocks,  braided  with  the  two-headed  black  eagle,  which, 
distinguish  the  members  of  the  imperial  household. 

The  carriages  on  the  road  stopped  while  he  passed,  the  foot 
passengers  touched  thqk  caps,  and,  as  he  came  near,  I  perceived 
that  he  was  slight  and  young,  but  rode  with  a  confidence  and  a 
grace  not  often  attained.  His  horse  had  the  subdued,  half-fiery 
action  of  an  Arab,  and  Percie  nearly  dropped  from  his  saddle 
when  the  young  horseman  suddenly  drove  in  his  spurs,  and  with 
almost  a  single  vault  stood  motionless  before  us. 

"  Monsieur  !" 

"  Madame  la  Confesse  !v 

I  was  uncertain  how  to  receive  her,  and  took  refuge  in  civility. 
Whether  she  would  be  overwhelmed  with  the  recollection  of 
Yvain's  death,  or  had  put  away  the  thought  altogether  with  her 
masculine  firmness,  was  a  dilemma  for  which  the  eccentric  con 
tradictions  of  her  character  left  me  no  probable  solution.  Motion 
ing  with  her  hand  after  saluting  me,  two  of  the  party  rode  back 
and  forward  in  different  directions,  as  if  patrolling  ;  and  giving  a 
look  between  a  tear  and  a  smile  at  Percie,  she  placed  her  hand  in 
mine,  and  shook  off  her  saduess  with  a  strong  effort. 

"  You  did  not  expect  so  large  a  suite  with  your  protegtef  she 
said,  rather  gayly,  after  a  moment. 

"  Do  I  understand  that  you  come  now  to  put  yourself  under 
my  protection  ?"  I  asked  in  reply. 

"  Soon,  but  not  now,  nor  here.  I  have  a  hundred  men  at  the 
foot  of  Mount  Semering,  whose  future  fate,  in  some  important 
respects,  none  can  decide  but  myself.  Yvain  was  always  pre 
pared  for  this,  and  everything  is  en  train.  I  come  now  but  to 
appoint  a  place  of  meeting.  Quick !  my  patrol  comes  in,  and 


268  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


some  one  approaches  whom  we  must  fly.  Can  you  await  me  at 
Gratz  ?" 

"  I  can  and  will !" 

She  put  her  slight  hand  to  my  lips,  waved  a  kiss  at  Percie,  and 
away  with  the  speed  of  wind,  flew  her  swift  Arab  over  the 
plain,  followed  by  the  six  horsemen,  every  one  of  whom  seemed 
part  of  the  animal  that  carried  him — he  rode  so  admirably. 

The  slight  figure  of  Iminild  in  the  close-fitting  dress  of  a  Hunga 
rian  page,  her  jacket  open  and  her  beautiful  limbs  perfectly  defined, 
silver  fringes  at  her  ankles  and  waist,  and  a  row  of  silver  buttons 
gallonne  down  to  the  instep,  her  bright,  flashing  eyes,  her  short 
curls  escaping  from  her  cap  and  tangled  over  her  left  temple, 
with  the  gold  tassel,  dirk  and  pistol  at  her  belt,  and  spurs  upon 
her  heels — it  was  an  apparition  I  had  scarce  time  to  realize,  but 
it  seemed  painted  on  my  eyes.  The  cloud  of  dust  which  fol 
lowed  their  rapid  flight  faded  away  as  I  watched  it,  but  I  saw  her 
still. 

"  Shall  I  ride  back  and? order  post-horses,  sir  ?"  asked  Percie, 
standing  up  in  his  stirrups. 

"  No  ;  but  you  may  order  dinner  at  six.  And  Percie  !"  he 
was  riding  away  with  a  gloomy  air  ;  "  you  may  go  to  the  police 
and  get  our  passports,  for  Venice." 

"  By  the  way  of  Gratz,  sir  r" 

"  Yes,  simpleton  !" 

There  is  a  difference  between  sixteen  and  twenty-six,  I  thought 
to  myself,  as  the  handsome  boy  flogged  his  horse  into  a  gallop. 
The  time  is  gone  when  I  could  love  without  reason.  Yet  I 
remember  when  a  feather,  stuck  jauntingly  into  a  bonnet,  would 
have  made  any  woman  a  princess  ;  and  in  those  days,  Heaven 
help  us  !  I  should  have  loved  this  woman  more  for  her  galliard- 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  269 


ize  than  ten  times  a  prettier  one  with  all  the  virtues  of  Dorcas. 
For  which  of  my  sins  am  I  made  guardian  to  a  robber's  wife,  I 
wonder  ! 


The  heavy  German  postillions,  with  their  cocked  hats  and  yel 
low  coats,  got  us  over  the  ground  after  a  manner,  and  toward  the 
sunset  of  a  summer's  evening  the  tall  castle  of  Gratz,  perched  on 
a  pinnacle  of  rock  in  the  centre  of  a  vast  plain,  stood  up  boldly 
against  the  reddening  sky.  The  rich  fields  of  Styria  were  ripen 
ing  to  an  early  harvest,  the  people  sat  at  their  doors  with  the  look 
of  household  happiness  for  which  the  inhabitants  of  these  "  des 
potic  countries"  are  so  remarkable ;  and  now  and  then  on  the 
road  the  rattling  of  steel  scabbards  drew  my  attention  from 
a  book  or  a  revery,  and  the  mounted  troops,  so  perpetually  seen 
on  the  broad  roads  of  Austria,  lingered  slowly  past  with  their  dust 
and  baggage-trains. 

It  had  been  a  long  summer's  day,  and,  contrary  to  my  usual 
practice,  I  had  not  mounted,  even  for  half  a  post,  to  Percie's 
side  in  the  rumble.  Out  of  humor  with  fate  for  having  drawn 
me  into  very  embarrassing  circumstances — out  of  humor  with 
myself  for  the  quixotic  step  which  had  first  brought  it  on  me — 
and  a  little  out  of  humor  with  Percie  (perhaps  from  an  unacknow 
ledged  jealousy  of  Iminild's  marked  preference  for  the  varlet),  I 
left  him  to  toast  alone  in  the  sun,  while  I  tried  to  forget  him  and 
myself  in  "  Le  Marquis  de  Pontangos."  What  a  very  clever 
book  it  is,  by  the  way ! 

The  pompous  sergeant  of  the  guard  performed  his  office  upon 
my  passport  at  the  gate — giving  me  at  least  a  kreutzer  worth  of 
his  majesty's  black  sand  in  exchange  for  my  florin  and  my  Eng 
lish  curse  (I  said  before  I  was  out  of  temper,  and  he  was  half  an 


270  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


hour  writing  bis  abominable  name),  and  leaving  my  carriage  and 
Percie  to  find  their  way  together  to  the  hotel,  I  dismounted  at 
the  foot  of  a  steep  street  and  made  my  way  to  the  battlements  of 
the  castle,  in  search  of  scenery  and  equanimity. 

Ah  !  what  a  glorious  landscape  !  The  precipitous  rock  on 
which  the  old  fortress  is  built  seems  dropped  by  the  Titans  in  the 
midst  of  a  plain,  extending  miles  in  every  direction,  with  scarce 
another  pebble.  Close  at  its  base  run  the  populous  streets, 
coiling  about  it  like  serpents  around  a  pyramid,  and  away  from 
the  walls  of  the  city  spread  the  broad  fields,  laden/  as  far  as  the 
eye  can  see,  with  tribute  for  the  emperor  !  The  tall  castle,  with 
its  armed  crest,  looks  down  among  the  reapers. 

"  You  have  not  lost  your  friend  and  lover,  yet  you  are  melan 
choly  !"  said  a  voice  behind  me,  that  I  was  scarce  startled 
to  hear. 

"  Is  it  you,  Iminild  ?" 

"  Scarce  the  same — for  Iminild  was  never  before  so  sad.  It  is 
something  in  the  sunset.  Come  away  whilst  the  woman  keeps 
down  in  me,  and  let  us  stroll  through  the  Plaza,  where  the  band 
is  playing.  Do  you  love  military  music  ?" 

I  looked  at  the  costume  and  figure  of  the  extraordinary  crea 
ture  before  I  ventured  with  her  on  a  public  promenade.  She  was 
dressed  like  one  of  the  travelling  apprentices  of  Germany,  with 
cap  and  bleuzer,  and  had  assumed  the  air  of  the  craft  with  a 
success  absolutely  beyond  detection.  I  gave  her  my  arm  and  we 
sauntered  through  the  crowd,  listening  to  the  thrilling  music  of 
one  of  the  finest  bands  in  Germany.  The  privileged  character 
and  free  manners  of  the  wandering  craftsmen  whose  dress  she  had 
adopted,  I  was  well  aware,  reconciled,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
inhabitants,  the  marked  contrast  between  our  conditions  in  life. 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA  271 


They  would  simply  have  said,  if  they  had  made  a  remark  at  all, 
that  the  Englishman  was  bon  enfant  and  the  craftsman  bon  cama- 
rade. 

"  You  had  better  look  at  me,  messieurs!"  said  the  dusty  ap 
prentice,  as  two  officers  of  the  regiment  passed  and  gave  me  the 
usual  strangers'  stare  ;  "  I  am  better  worth  your  while  by  exactly 
five  thousand  florins." 

"  And  pray  how  ?"  I  asked. 

"  That  price  is  set  on  my  head." 

"  Heavens  !  and  you  walk  here  r" 

"  They  kept  you  longer  than  usual  with  your  passport,  I  pre 
sume  ?" 

"  At  the  gate  ?  yes." 

"  I  came  in  with  my  pack  at  the  time.  They  have  orders  to 
examine  all  travellers  and  passports  with  unusual  care,  these 
sharp  officials  !  But  I  shall  get  out  as  easily  as  I  got  in  !" 

"  My  dear  countess  !"  I  said,  in  a  tone  of  serious  remonstrance, 
"  do  not  trifle  with  the  vigilance  of  the  best  police  in  Europe  !  I 
am  your  guardian,  and  you  owe  my  advice  some  respect.  Come 
away  from  the  square  and  let  us  talk  of  it  in  earnest." 

"  Wise  seignior !  suffer  me  to  remind  you  how  deftly  I  slipped 
through  the  fingers  of  these  gentry  after  our  tragedy  in  Vienna, 
and  pay  my  opinion  some  respec.t !  It  was  my  vanity  that  brought 
me,  with  my  lackeys,  to  meet  you  a  la  prince  royale  so  near  Vi 
enna  ;  and  hence  this  alarm  in  the  police,  for  I  was  seen  and  sus 
pected.  I  have  shown  myself  to  you  in  my  favorite  character, 
however,  and  have  done  with  such  measures.  You  shall  see  me 
on  the  road  to-morrow,  safe  as  the  heart  in  your  bosom.  Where 
is  Monsieur  Percie  !" 

"  At  the  hotel.     But  stay  !  can  I  trust  you  with  yourself  ?» 


2ta  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


"  Yes,  and  dull  company,  too  '     A  revoir  /" 

And  whistling  the  popular  air  of  the  craft  she  had  assumed, 
the  countess  Iminild  struck  her  long  staff  on  the  pavement,  and 
with  the  gait  of  a  tired  and  habitual  pedestrian,  disappeared  by 
a  narrow  street  leading  under  the  precipitory  battlements  of  the 
castle. 


Percie  made  his  appearance  with  a  cup  of  coffee  the  following 
morning,  and,  with  the  intention  of  posting  a  couple  of  leagues  to 
breakfast,  I  hurried  through  my  toilet  and  was  in  my  carriage  au 
hour  after  sunrise.  The  postillion  was  in  his  saddle,  and  only 
waited  for  Percie,  who,  upon  inquiry,  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 
I  sat  fifteen  minutes,  and  just  as  I  was  beginning  to  be  alarmed, 
he  ran  into  the  large  court  of  the  hotel,  and,  crying  out  to 
the  postillion  that  all  was  right,  jumped  into  his  place  with  an 
agility,  it  struck  me,  very  unlike  his  usual  gpntlemanlike  delibera 
tion.  Determining  to  take  advantage  of  the  first  up-hill  to  cate 
chize  him  upon  his  matutinal  rambles,  I  read  the  signs  along  the 
Btreet  till  we  pulled  up  at  the  gate. 

Iminild's  communication  had  prepared  me  for  an  unusual  delay 
with  my  passport,  and  I  was  not  surprised  when  the  officer,  in 
returning  it  to  me,  requested  me  as  a  matter  of  form,  *o  declare, 
upon  my  honor,  that  the  servant  behind  my  carriage  was  an 
Englishman,  and  the  person  mentioned  in  my  passport. 

"  Foi  d'honneur,  monsieur,"  I  said,  placing  my  hand  politely 
on  my  heart,  and  off  trotted  the  postillion,  while  the  captain  of 
the  guard,  flattered  with  my  civility,  touched  his  foragiug-cap, 
and  sent  me  a  German  blessing  through  his  mustache. 

It  was  a  divine  morning,  and  the  fresh  and  dewy  air  took  me 
back  many  a  year,  to  the  days  when  I  was  more  familiar  with 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA. 


the  hour.  We  had  a  long  trajet  across  the  plain,  and  unlooping 
an  antivibration  tablet,  for  the  invention  of  which  my  ingenuity 
took  great  credit  to  itself  (suspended  on  caoutchouc  cords  from 
the  roof  of  the  carriage — and  deserving  of  a  patent  f  trust  you 
will  allow  !)  I  let  off  my  poetical  vein  in  the  following  beginning 
to  what  might  have  turned  out,  but  for  "the  interruption,  a  very 
edifying  copy  of  verses: — 

'  Ye  are  not  what  you  were  to  me, 

Oh  waning  night  and  morning  star ! 
Though  silent  still  your  watches  flee — 

Though  hang  yon  lamp  in  heaven  as  far — 
Though  live  the  thoughts  ye  fed  of  yore — 
I'm  thine,  oh  starry  dawn,  no  more ! 
Yet  to  that  dew-pearled  hour  alone 

I  was  not  folly's  blindest  child  ; 
It  came  when  wearied  mirth  had  flown, 

And  sleep  was  on  the  gay  and  wild ; 
And  wakeful  with  repentjfht  pain, 

I  lay  amid  its  lap  of  flowers, 
And  with  a  truant's  earnest  brain 

Turned  back  the  leaves  of  wasted  hours. 
The  angels  that  by  day  would  flee, 
Returned,  oh  morning  star  !  with  thee  ! 

Yet  now  again *        *        *        * 

***** 

A  foot  thrust  into  my  carriage-window  rudely  broke  the  thread 
of  these  delicate  musings.  The  postillion  was  on  a  walk,  and 
before  I  could  get  my  wits  back  from  their  wool-gathering,  the 
countess  Iminild,  in  Percie's  clothes,  sat  laughing  on  the  cushion 
beside  me. 

"  On  what  bird's  back  has  your  ladyship  descended  from  tlie 
clouds  ?"  I  asked  with  unfeigned  astonishment. 
12* 


274  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


"  The  same  bird  has  brought  us  both  down — c'est  a  dire,  if  you 
are  not  still  en  Vaiff*  she. added,  looking  from  my  scrawled  tablets 
to  my  perplexed  face. 

"  Are  you  really  and  really  the  countess  Iminild  ?"  I  asked 
with  a  smile,  looking  down  at  the  trowsered  feet  and  loose-fitting 
boots  of  the  pseudo-valet. 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  but  I  leave  it  to  you  to  swear,  '  foi  cPhonncurJ 
that  a  born  countess  is  an  English  valet !"  And  she  laughed  so 
long  and  merrily  that  the  postillion  looked  over  his  yellow  epau 
lets  in  astonishment. 

"  Kind,  generous  Percie  !"  she  said,  changing  her  tone  pres 
ently  to  one  of  great  feeling,  "  I  would  scarce  believe  him  last 
night  when  he  informed  me  as  an  inducement  to  'leave  him 
behind,  that  he  was  only  a  servant !  You  never  told  me  this. 
But  he  is  a  gentleman,  in  every  feeling  as  well  as  in  every  feature, 
and  by  Heavens  !  he  shall  be  a  menial  no  longer  !" 

This  speech,  begun  with  much  tenderness,  rose,  toward  the 
close,  to  the  violence  of  passion ;  and  folding  her  arms  with  an 
air  of  defiance,  the  ladyoutlaw  threw  herself  back  in  the  carriage. 

"  I  have  no  objection,"  I  said,  after  a  short  silence,  "  that 
Percie  should  set  up  for  a  gentleman.  Nature  has  certainly 
done  her  part  to  make  him  one  ;  but  till  you  can  give  him  means 
and  education,  the  coat  which  you  wear,  with  such  a  grace,  is  his 
safest  shell.  '  Ants  live  safely  till  they  have  gotten  wings,'  says 
the  old  proverb." 

The  blowing  of  the  postillion's  horn  interrupted  the  argument, 
and  a  moment  after,  we  were  rolled  up  with  German  leisure,  to 
the  door  of  the  small  inn  where  I  had  designed  to  breakfast. 

O 

Thinking  it  probable  that  the  people  of  the  house,  in  so  small  a 
village,  would  be  too  simple  to  make  any  dangerous  comments 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA. 


upon  our  appearance,  I  politely  handed  the  countess  out  of  the 
carriage,  and  ordered  plates  for  two. 

''  It  is  scarce  worth  while,"  she  said,  as  she  heard  the  order, 
"  for  I  shall  remain  at  the  door  on  the  look  out.  The  eil-waggen 
for  Trieste,  which  was  to  leave  Gratz  an  hour  after  us,  will  be 
soon  here,  and  (if  my  friends  have  served  me  well)  Percie 
in  it.  St.  Mary  speed  him  safely  !" 

She  strode  away  to  a  small  hillock  to  look  out  for  the  lumber 
ing  diligence,  with  a  gait  that  was  no  stranger  to  "  doublet  and 
hose.''  It  soon  came  on  with  its  usual  tempest  of  whip-cracking 
and  bugle-blasts,  and  nearly  overturning  a  fat  burgher,  who 
would  have  proffered  the  assistance  of  his  hand,  out  jumped 
a  petticoat,  which  I  saw  at  a  glance,  gave  a  very  embarrassed 
motion  to  gentleman  Percie. 

"  This  young  lady,"  said  the  countess,  dragging  the  striding 
and  unwilling  damsel  into  the  little  parlor  where  I  was  breakfasting, 
"  travels  under  the  charge  of  a  deaf  old  brazier,  who  has  been 
requested  to  protect  her  modesty  as  far  as  Laybach.  Make 
a  courtesy,  child !" 

"  I  beg  pardon*  sir  !"  began  Percie. 

"  Hush,  hush  !  no  English  !"  Walls  have  ears,  and  your 
voice  is  rather  gruffish,  mademoiselle.  Show  me  your  passport  ? 
Cunegunda  Von  Krakenpate,  eighteen  years  of  age,  blue  eyes,  nose 
and  chin  middling,  etc  !  There  is  the  conductor's  horn  !  Allez 
•cite  !  We  meet  at  Laybach.  Adieu,  charmante  femme  ! 
Adieu !" 

And  with  the  sort  of  caricatured  elegance  which  women 
always  assume  in  their  imitations  of  our  sex,  Countess  Iminild,  in 
frock-coat  and  trowsers,  helped  into  the  diligence,  in  hood  and 
petticoat,  my  "  tiger"  from  Cranbourne-alley  ! 


276  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


CHAPTER   IY. 

SPITE  of  remonstrance  on  my  part,  the  imperative  countess, 
who  had  asserted  her  authority  more  than  once  on  our  way  to 
Laybach,  insisted  on  the  company  of  Miss  Cunegunda  Von  Krak- 
enpate,  in  an  evening  walk  around  the  town.  Fearing  that  Per- 
cie's  masculine  stride  would  betray  him,  and  objecting  to  lend 
myself  to  a  farce  with  my  valet,  I  opposed  the  freak  as  long  as  it 
was  courteous — but  it  was  not  the  first  time  I  had  learned  that  a 
spoiled  woman  would  have  her  own  way,  and  too  vexed  to  laugh, 
I  soberly  promenaded  the  broad  avenue  of  the  capital  of  Styria, 
with  a  valet  en  demoiselle,  and  a  dame  en  valet. 

It  was  but  a  few  hours  hence  to  Planina,  and  Iminild,  who 
seemed  to  fear  no  risk  out  of  a  walled  city,  waited  on  Percie  to 
the  carriage  the  following  morning,  and  in  a  few  hours  we  drove 
up  to  the  rural  inn  of  this  small  town  of  Littorale. 

I  had  been  too  much  out  of  humor  to  ask  the  countess  a  second 
time  what  errand  she  could  have  in  so  rustic  a  neighborhood.  She 
had  made  a  mystery  of  it,  merely  requiring  of  me  that  I  should  defer 
all  arrangements  for  the  future,  as  far  as  she  was  concerned,  till 
we  had  visited  a  spot  in  Littorale,  upon  which  her  fate  in  many 
respects  depended.  After  twenty  fruitless  conjectures,  I  aban 
doned  myself  to  the  course  of  circumstances,  reserving  only  the 
determination,  if  it  should  prove  a  haunt  of  iTvian's  troop,  to 
separate  at  once  from  her  company  and  await  l.er  at  Trieste. 

Our  dinner  was  preparing  at  the  inn,  and  t.red  of  the  embar 
rassment  Percie  exhibited  in  my  presence  I  walked  out  and 
seated  myself  under  an  immense  linden,  that  every  traveller  will 


THE  BANDIT   OF  AUSTRIA.  2  If 


remember,  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  motley  and  indescribable 
clusters  of  buildings,  which  serve  the  innkeeper  and  blacksmith  of 
Planina  for  barns,  forge,  dwelling,  and  out-houses.  The  tree 
seems  the  father  of  the  village.  It  was  a  hot  afternoon,  and  I 
was  compelled  to  dispute  the  shade  with  a  congregation,  of  cows 
and  double-jointed  post-horses  ;  but  finding  a  seat  high  up  on  the 
root,  at  last  I  busied  myself  with  gazing  down  the  road,  and  con 
jecturing  what  a  cloud  of  dust  might  contain,  which  in  an  oppo 
site  direction  from  that  which  we  had  come,  was  slowly  creeping 
onward  to  the  inn. 

Four  roughly-harnessed  horses  at  length  appeared,  with  their 
traces  tied  over  their  backs — one  of  them  ridden  by  a  man  in  a 
farmer's  frock.  They  struck  me  at  first  as  fine  specimens  of  the 
German  breed  of  draught-horses,  with  their  shaggy  fetlocks  and 
long  manes ;  but  while  they  drank  at  the  trough  which  stood  in 
the  shade  of  the  linden,  the  low  tone  in  which  the  man  checked 
their  greedy  thirst,  and  the  instant  obedience  of  the  well-trained 
animals,  awakened  at  once  my  suspicions  that  we  were  to  become 
better  acquainted.  A  more  narrow  examination  convinced  me 
that,  covered  with  dust  and  disguised  with  coarse  harness  as  they 
were,  they  were  four  horses  of  such  bone  and  condition,  as  were 
never  seen  in  a  farmer's  stables.  The  rider  dismounted  at  the 
inn  door,  and  very  much  to  the  embarrassment  of  my  supposi 
tions,  the  landlord,  a  stupid  and  heavy  Boniface,  greeted  him 
with  the  familiarity  of  an  old  acquaintance,  and  in  answer,  ap 
parently  to  an  inquiry,  pointed  to  my  carriage,  and  led  him  into 
the  house. 

"  Monsieur  Tyrell,"  said  Iminild,  coming  out  to  me  a  moment 
after,  "  a  servant  whom  I  had  expected  has  arrived  with  my 


278  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


horses,  and  with  your  consent,  they  shall  be  put  to  your  carriage 
immediately." 

"  To  take  us  where  ?" 

"  To  our  place  of  destination." 

"  Too  indefinite,  by  half,  countess  !  Listen  to  me  !  I  have 
very  sufficient  reason  to  fancy  that,  in  leaving  the  post-road  to 
Trieste,  I  shall  leave  the  society  of  honest  men.  You  and  your 
'  minions  of  the  moon'  may  be  very  pleasant,  but  you  are  not 
very  safe  companions  ;  and  having  really  a  wish  to  die  quietly  in 
my  bed — " 

The  countess  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"  If  you  will  have  the  character  of  the  gentleman  you  are 
about  to  visit  from  the  landlord  here — " 

"  Who  is  one  of  your  ruffians  himself,  I'll  be  sworn  !" 

"  No,  on  my  honor  !  A  more  innocent  old  beer-guzzler  lives 
not  on  the  road.  But  I  will  tell  you  thus  much,  and  it  ought  to 
content  you.  Ten  miles  to  the  west  of  this  dwells  a  country  gen 
tleman,  who,  the  landlord  will  certify,  is  as  honest  a  subject  of 
his  gracious  majesty  as  is  to  be  found  in  Littorale.  He  lives 
freely  on  his  means,  and  entertains  strangers  occasionally  from 
all  countries,  for  he  has  been  a  traveller  in  bis  time.  You  are 
invited  to  pass  a  day  or  two  with  this  Mynheer  Krakenpate  (who, 
by  the  way,  has  no  objection  to  pass  for  the  father  of  the  young 
lady  you  have  so  kindly  brought  from  Laybach),  and  he  has  sent 
you  his  horses,  like  a  generous  host,  to  bring  you  to  his  door. 
More  seriously,  this  was  a  retreat  of  Yvain's,  where  he  would 
live  quietly  and  play  bon  citoyen,  and  you  have  nothing  earthly  to 
fear  in  accompanying  me  thither.  And  now  will  you  wait  and 
eat  the  greasy  meal  you  have  ordered,  or  will  you  save  your  appe- 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  £79 


tite  for  la  fortune,  de,  pot  at  Mynheer  Krakenpate's,  and  get 
presently  on  the  roadr" 

I  yielded  rather  to  the  seducing  smile  and  captivating  beauty  of 
my  pleasing  ward,  than  to  any  confidence  in  the  honesty  of  Mynheer 
Krakenpate  ;  and  Percie  being  once  more  ceremoniously  handed 
in,  we  left  the  village  at  the  sober  trot  becoming  the  fat  steeds  of  a 
landholder.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  of  this  was  quite  sufficient  for 
Iminild,  and  a  word  to  the  postillion  changed,  like  a  metamorpho 
sis,  both  horse  and  rider.  From  a  heavy  unelastic  figure,  he  rose 
into  a  gallant  and  withy  horseman,  and,  with  one  of  his  low- 
spoken  words,  away  flew  the  four  compact  animals,  treading 
lightly  as  cats,  and  with  the  greatest  apparent  ease,  putting  us 
over  the  ground  at  the  rate  of  fourteen  miles  in  the  hour. 

The  dust  was  distanced,  a  pleasant  breeze  was  created  by  the 
motion,  and  when  at  last  we  turned  from  the  main  road,  and  sped 
off  to  the  right  at  the  same  exhilarating  pace,  I  returned  Iminild's 
arch  look  of  remonstrance  with  my  best-humored  smile  and  an 
affectionate  je  me  fie  a  vous  !  Miss  Krakenpate,  I  observed,  ech 
oed  the  sentiment  by  a  slight  pressure  of  the  countess's  arm,  look 
ing  very  innocently  out  of  the  window  all  the  while. 

A  couple  of  miles,  soon  done,  brought  us  round  the  face  of  a 
craggy  precipice,  forming  the  brow  of  a  hill,  and  with  a  continu 
ation  of  the  turn,  we  drew  up  at  the  gate  of  a  substantial-look 
ing  building,  something  between  a  villa  and  a  farm-house,  built 
against  the  rock,  as  if  for  the  purpose  of  shelter  from'  the  north 
winds.  Two  beautiful  Angora  hounds  sprang  out  at  the  noise, 
and  recognized  Iminild  through  all  her  disguise,  and  presently, 
with  a  look  of  forced  courtesy,  as  if  not  quite  sure  whether  he 
might  throw  off  the  mask,  a  stout  man  of  about  fifty,  hardly  a 
gentleman,  yet  above  a  common  peasant  in  his  manners,  stepped 


280  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


forward  from  the  garden  to  give  Miss  Krakenpate  his  assistance 
in  alighting. 

"  Dinner  in  halt'  an  hour  !"  was  Iminild's  brief  greeting,  and, 
stepping  between  her  bowing  dependent  and  Percie,  she  led  the 
way  into  the  house. 

I  was  shown  into  a  chamber,  furnished  scarce  above  the  com 
mon  style  of  a  German  inn,  where  I  made  a  hungry  man's  dispatch 
of  my  toilet,  and  descended  at  once  to  the  parlor.  The  doors 
were  all  open  on  the  ground  floor,  and,  finding  myself  quite  alone, 
I  sauntered  from  room  to  room,  wondering  at  the  scantiness  of 
the  furniture  and  general  air  of  discomfort,  and  scarce  able  to 
believe  that  the  same  mistress  presided  over  this  and  the  singu 
lar  paradise  in  which  I  had  first  found  her  at  Vienna.  After 
visiting  every  corner  of  the  ground  floor  with  a  freedom  which  I 
assumed  in  my  character  as  guardian,  it  occurred  to  me  that  I 
had  not  yet  found  the  dining-room,  and  I  was  making  a  new 
search,  when  Iminild  entered. 

I  have  said  she  was  a  beautiful  woman.  She  was  dressed  now 
in  the  Albanian  costume,  with  the  additional  gorgeousness  of 
gold  embroidery,  which  might  distinguish  the  favorite  child  of  a 
chief  of  Suli.  It  was  the  male  attire,  with  a  snowy  white  juktanilla 
reaching  to  the  knee,  a  short  jacket  of  crimson  velvet,  and  a  close- 
tuttoned  vest  of  silver  cloth,  fitting  admirably  to  her  girlish  bust, 
and  leaving  her  slender  and  pearly  neck  to  rise  bare  and  swan-like 
into  the  masses  of  her  clustering  hair.  Her  slight  waist  was  defined 
by  the  girdle  of  fine  linen  edged  with  fringe  of  gold,  which  was  tied 
coquettishly  over  her  left  side  and  fell  to  her  ankle,  and  below  the 
embroidered  leggin  appeared  the  fairy  foot,  which  had  drawn  upon 
me  all  this  long  train  of  adventure,  thrust  into  a  Turkish  slipper 
with  a  sparkling  emerald  on  its  instep.  A  feroniere  of  the  yel- 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  281 


lowest  gold  sequins  bound  her  hair  back  from  her  temples,  and 
this  was  the  only  confinement  to  the  dark  brown  meshes  which, 
in  wavy  lines  and  in  the  richest  profusion,  fell  almost  to  her  feet. 
The  only  blemish  to  this  vision  of  loveliness  was  a  flush  about  her 
eyes.  The  place  had  recalled  Yvain  to  her  memory. 

"  I  am  about  to  disclose  to  you  secrets,"  said  she,  laying  her 
hand  on  my  arm,  "  which  have  never  been  revealed  but  to  the 
most  trusty  of  Yvain's  confederates.  To  satisfy  those  whom  you 
will  meet  you  must  swear  to  me  on  the  same  cross  which  he 
pressed  to  your  lips  when  dying,  that  you  will  never  violate,  while 
I  live,  the  trust  we  repose  in  you." 

"  I  will  take  no  oath,"  I  said  ;  "  for  you  are  leading  me  blind 
folded.  If  you  are  not  satisfied  with  the  assurance  that  I  can  be 
tray  no  confidence  which  honor  would  preserve,  hungry  as  I  am, 
I  will  yet  dine  in  Planina." 

"  Then  I  will  trust  to  the  faith  of  an  Englishman.  And  now 
I  have  a  favor,  not  to  beg,  but  to  insist  upon — that  from  this 
moment  you  consider  Percie  as  dismissed  from  your  service,  and 
treat  him,  while  here  at  least,  as  my  equal  and  friend." 

"  Wiilingly  !"  I  said  ;  and  a?  the  word  left  my  lips,  enter  Per 
cie  in  the  counterpart  dress  of  Iminild,  with  a  silver-sheathed 
ataghan  at  his  side,  and  the  bluish  muzzles  of  a  pair  of  Egg's 
hair-triggers  peeping  from  below  his  girdle.  To  do  the  rascal 
justice,  he  was  as  handsome  in  his  new  toggery  as  his  mistress, 
and  carried  it  as  gallantly.  They  would  have  made  the  prettiest 
tableau  as  Juan  and  Haidee. 

"  Is  there  any  chance  that  these  '  persuaders'  may  be  neces 
sary,"  I  asked,  pointing  to  his  pistols,  which  awoke  in  my  mind  a 
momentary  suspicion. 

"  No — none  that  I  can  foresee — but  they  are  loaded.     A  favor- 


282  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


ite,  among  men  whose  passions  are  professionally  wild,"  she  con 
tinued  with  a  meaning  glance  at  Percie  ;  "  should  be  ready  to  lay 
his  hand  on  them,  even  if  stirred  in  his  sleep  !" 

I  had  heen  so  accustomed  to  surprises  of  late,  that  I  scarce 
started  to  observe,  while  Iminild  was  speaking,  that  an  old-fash 
ioned  clock,  which  stood  in  a  niche  in  the  wall,  was  slowly  swing 
ing  out  upon  hinges.  A  narrow  aperture  of  sufficient  breadth  to 
admit  one  person  at  a  time,  was  disclosed  when  it  had  made  its 
entire  revolution,  and  in  it  stood,  with  a  lighted  torch,  the  stout 
landlord  Von  Krakenpate.  Iminild  looked  at  me  an  instant  as 
if  to  enjoy  my  surprise.  + 

"  Will  you  lead  me  in  to  dinner,  Mr.  Tyrell  ?"  she  said,  at  last, 
with  a  laugh. 

"  If  we  are  to  follow  Mynheer  Von  Krakenpate,"  I  replied, 
"  give  me  hold  of  the  skirt  of  your  juktanilla,  rather,  and  let  me 
follow  !  Do  we  dine  in  the  cellar  ?" 

I  stepped  before  Percie,  who  was  inclined  to  take  advantage  of 
my  hesitation  to  precede  me,  and  followed  the  countess  into  tho 
opening,  which,  from  the  position  of  the  house,  I  saw  must  lead 
directly  into  the  face  of  the  rock.  Two  or  three  descending  steps 
convinced  me  that  it  was  a  natural  opening  enlarged  by  art ;  and 
after  one  or  two  sharp  turns,  and  a  descent  of  perhaps  fifty  feet, 
we  came  to  a  door  which,  suddenly  flung  open  by  our  torch-bearer, 
deluged  the  dark  passage  with  a  blaze  of  light  which  the  eye 
sight  almost  refused  to  bear.  Recovering  from  my  amazement,  I 
stepped  over  the  threshold  of  the  door,  and  stood  upon  a  carpet 
in  a  gallery  of  sparkling  stalactites,  the  dazzling  reflection  of 
innumerable  lamps  flooding  the  air  around,  and  a  long  snow- 
white  vista  of  the  same  brilliancy  and  efiect  stretching  downward 
before  me.  Two  ridges  of  the  calcareous  strata  running  almost 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  283 


parallel  over  our  heads,  formed  the  cornices  of  the  descending 
corridor,  and  from  these,  with  a  regularity  that  seemed  like  de 
sign,  the  sparkling  pillars,  white  as  alabaster,  and  shaped  like 
inverted  cones,  dropped  nearly  to  the  floor,  their  transparent 
points  resting  on  the  peaks  of  the  corresponding  stalagmites, 
which,  of  a  darker  hue  and  coarser  grain,  seemed  designed  as 
bases  to  a  new  order  of  architectural  columns.  The  reflection 
from  the  pure  crystalline  rock  gave  to  this  singular  gallery  a 
Splendor  which  only  the  palace  of  Aladdin  could  have  equalled. 
The  lamps  were  hung  between  in  irregular  but  effective  ranges, 
and  in  our  descent,  like  Thalaba,  who  refreshed  his  dazzled  eyes 
in  the  desert  of  snow  by  looking  on  the  green  wings  of  the  spirit 
bird,  I  was  compelled  to  bend  my  eyes  perpetually  for  relief  upon 
the  soft,  dark  masses  of  hair  which  floated  upon  the  lovely  shoul 
ders  of  Iminild. 

At  the  extremity  of  the  gallery  we  turned  short  to  the  right, 
and  followed  an  irregular  passage,  sometimes  so  low  that  we  could 
scarce  stand  upright,  but  all  lighted  with  the  same  intense  bril 
liancy,  and  formed  of  the  same  glittering  and  snow-white  sub 
stance.  We  had  been  rambling  on  thus  far  perhaps  ten  minutes, 
when  suddenly  the  air,  which  I  had  felt  uncomfortably  chill,  grew 
warm  and  soft,  and  the  low  reverberation  of  running  water  fell 
delightfully  on  our  ears.  Far  ahead*  we  could  see  two  sparry 
columns  standing  close  together,  and  apparently  closing  up  the 
way. 

"Courage!  my  venerable  guardian !"  cried  Iminild,  laughing 
over  her  shoulder  ;  "  you  will  see  your  dinner  presently.  Are  you 
hungry,  Percie  ?" 

"  Not    while  you  look  back,   Madame   la   Comtesse !"    an- 


284  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


ewered  the  callow  gentleman,  with  an  instinctive  tact  at  his  new 
vocation. 

\Ve  stood  at  the  two  pillars  which  formed  the  extremity  of  the 
passage,  and  looked  down  upon  a  scene  of  which  all  description 
must  be  faint  and  imperfect.  A  hundred  feet  below  ran  a  broad 
subterraneous  river,  whose  waters,  sparkling  in  the  blaze  of  a 
thousand  torches,  sprang  into  light  from  the  deepest  darkness, 
crossed  with  foaming  rapidity  the  bosom  of  the  vast  illuminated 
cavern,  and  disappeared  again  in  the  same  inscrutable  gloom. 
Whence  it  came  or  whither  it  fled  was  a  mystery  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  eye.  The  deep  recesses  of  the  cavern  seemed  darker 
for  the  intense  light  gathered  about,  the  centre. 

After  the  first  few  minutes  of  bewilderment,  I  endeavored  to 
realize  in  detail  the  wondrous  scene  before  me.  The  cavern  was 
of  an  irregular  shape,  but  all  studded  above  with  the  same  sparry 
incrustations,  thousands  upon  thousands  of  pendent  stalactites 
glittering  on  the  roof,  and  showering  back  light  upon  the  clusters 
of  blazing  torches  fastened  every  where  upon  the  shelvy  sides. 
Here  and  there  vast  columns,  alabaster  white,  with  bases  of  gold 
color,  fell  from  the  roof  to  the  floor,  like  pillars  left  standing  in 
the  ruined  aisle  of  a  cathedral,  and  from  corner  to  corner  ran 
thin  curtains  of  the  same  brilliant  calcareous  spar,  shaped  like 
the  sharp  edge  of  a  snowdrift,  and  almost  white.  It  was  like 
laying  bare  the  palace  of  some  king  'wizard  of  the  mine  to  gaze 
down  upon  it. 

"  What  think  you  of  Mynheer  Krakenpate's  taste  in  a  dining- 
room,  Monsieur  Tyrell  r"  asked  the  countess,  who  stood  between 
Percie  and  myself,  with  a  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  each. 

I  had  scarce  found  time,  as  yet,  to  scrutinize  the  artificial  por 
tion  of  the  marvellous  scene,  but,  at  the  question  of  Iininild,  I 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  285 

bent  my  gaze  on  a  broad  platform,  rising  high  above  the  river  on 
its  opposite  bank,  the  rear  of  which  was  closed  in  by  perhaps 
forty  irregular  columns,  leaving  between  them  and  the  sharp  pre 
cipice^  on  the  river-side,  an  area,  in  height  and  extent  of  about 
the  capacity  of  a  ball-room.  A  rude  bridge,  of  very  light  con 
struction,  rose  in  a  single  arch  across  the  river,  forming  the  only 
possible  access  to  the  platform  from  the  side  where  we  stood, 
and,  following  the  path  back  with  my  eye,  I  observed  a  narrow 
and  spiral  staircase,  partly  of  wood  and  partly  cut  in  the  rock, 
ascending  from  the  bridge  to  the  gallery  we  had  followed  hither. 
The  platform  was  carpeted  richly,  and  flooded  with  intense  light, 
and  in  its  centre  stood  a  gorgeous  array  of  smoking  dishes,  served 
after  the  Turkish  fashion,  with  a  cloth  upon  the  floor,  and  sur 
rounded  with  cushions  and  ottomans  of  every  shape  and  color. 
A  troop  of  black  slaves,  whose  silver  anklets,  glittered  as  they 
moved,  were  busy  bringing  wines  and  completing  the  arrange 
ments  for  the  meaL 

.  "Allans,  mignon!^  cried  Iminild,  getting  impatient  and  seiz 
ing  Percie's  arm,  "  let  us  get  over  the  river,  and  perhaps  Mr. 
Tyrell  will  look  down  upon  us  with  his  grands  yeux  while  we 
dine.  Oh,  you  will  come  with  us  !  Suivez  done  /" 

An  iron  door,  which  I  had  not  hitherto  observed,  let  us  out 
from  the  gallery  upon  the  staircase,  and  Mynheer  Von  Kraken- 
pate  carefully  turned  the  key  behind  us.  We  crept  slowly  down 
the  narrow  staircase  and  reached  the  edge  of  the  river,  where  the 
warm  air  from  the  open  sunshine  came  pouring  through  the  cav 
ern  with  the  current,  bringing  with  it  a  smell  of  green  fields  and 
flowers,  and  removing  entirely  the  chill  of  the  cavernous  and  con 
fined  atmosphere  I  had  found  so  uncomfortable  above.  We 
crossed  the  bridge,  and  stepping  upon  the  elastic  carpets  piled 


286  FUN   JOTTINGS. 


thickly  on  the  platform,  arranged  ourselves  about  the  smoking 
repast,  Mynheer  Von  Krakenpate  sitting  down  after  permission 
from  Iminild,  and  Percie  by  order  of  the  same  imperative  dicta- 
tress,  throwing  his  graceful  length  at  her  feet. 


CHAPTEE  Y. 

"  TAKE  a  lesson  in  flattery  from  Percie,  Mr.  Tyrell,  and  be 
satisfied  with  your  bliss  in  my  society  without  asking  for  explana 
tions.  I  would  fain  have  the  use  of  my  tongue  (to  swallow)  for 
ten  minutes,  and  I  see  you  making  up  your  mouth  for  a  question. 
Try  this  pilau !  It  is  made  by  a  Greek  cook,  who  fries,  boils, 
and  stews,  in  a  kitchen  with  a  river  for  a  chimney." 

"  Precisely  what  I  was  going  to  ask  you.  I  vras  wondering 
how  you  cook  without  smoking  your  snow-white  roof." 

"  Yes,  the  river  is  a  good  slave,  and  steals  wood  as  well.  We 
have  only  to  cut  it  by  moonlight  and  commit  it  to  the  current." 

"  The  kitchen  is  down  stream,  then  ?" 

"  Down  stream  ;  and  down  stream  lives  jolly  Perdicaris  the 
cook,  who  having  lost  his  nose  in  a  sea-fight,  is  reconciled  to  for 
swear  sunshine  and  mankind  and  cook  rice  for  pirates." 

"  Is  it  true  then  that  Yvain  held  command  on  the  sea  ?w 

"  No,  not  Yvain,  but  Tranchcoeur — his  equal  in  command 
over  this  honest  confederacy.  By  the  way,  he  is  your  country 
man,  Mr.  Tyrell,  though  he  fights  under  a  nom  de  guerre.  You 
are  very  likely  to  see  him,  too,  for  his  bark  is  at  Trieste,  and  he 
is  the  only  human  being  besides  myself  (and  my  company  here) 
who  can  come  and  go  at  will  in  this  robber's  paradise.  He  is  a 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  287 

lover  of  mine,  parbleu  !  and  since  Yvain's  death,  Heaven  knows 
what  fancy  he  may  bring  hither  in  his  hot  brain  !  I  have  armed 
1'oicie  for  the  hazard  !" 

The  thin  nostrils  of  my  friend  from  Cranbourne-alley  dilated 
with  prophetic  dislike  of  a  rival  thus  abruptly  alluded  to, 
and  there  was  that  in  his  face  which  would  have  proved, 
against  all  the  nurses'  oaths  in  Christendom,  that  the  spirit 
of  a  gentleman's  blood  ran  warm  through  his  heart.  Signor 
Tranchcosur  must  be  gentle  in  his  suit,  I  said  to  myself,  or 
he  will '  find  what  virtue  lies  in  hair-triggers !  Percie  had 
forgot  to  eat  since  the  mention  of  the  pirate's  name,  and  sat  with 
folded  arms  and  his  right  hand  on  his  pistol. 

A  black  slave  brought  in  an  omelette  soufflee,  as  light  and  deli 
cate  as  the  chef-d'(euvre  of  an  artiste  in  the  Palais  Royal.  Imin- 
ild  spoke  to  him  in  Greek,  as  he  knelt  and  placed  it  before  her. 

"  I  have  a  presentiment,"  she  said,  looking  at  me  as  the  slave 
disappeared,  "  that  Tranchcoaur  will  be  here  presently.  I  have 
ordered  another  omelette  on  the  strength  of  the  feeling,  for  he 
is  fond  of  it,  and  may  be  soothed  by  the  attention." 

'*'  You  fear  him,  then  r" 

"  Not  if  I  were  alone,  for  he  is  as  gentle  as  a,  woman  when 
he  has  no  rival  near  him — but  I  doubt  his  relish  of  Percie. 
Have  you  dined  ?" 

"  Quite." 

"  Then  come  and  look  at  my  garden,  and  have  a  peep  at  old 
Perdicaris.  Stay  here,  Percie,  and  finish  your  grapes,  mon- 
mignon!  I  have  a  word  to  say  to  Mr.  Tyrell." 

We  walked  across  the  platform,  and  passing  between  two  of 
the  sparry  columns  forming  its  boundary,  entered  upon  a  low 
passage  which  led  to  a  large  opening,  resembling  singularly 


288  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


a  garden  of  low  shrubs  turned  by  some  magic  to  sparkling 
marble. 

Two  or  three  hundred  of  these  stalagmite  cones,  formed  by  the 
dripping  of  calcareous  water  from  the  roof  (as  those  on  the  roof 
were  formed  by  the  same  fluid  which  hardened  and  pondered), 
stood  about  in  the  spacious  area,  every  shrub  having  an  answering 
cone  on  the  roof,  like  the  reflection  of  the  same  marble  garden  in 
a  mirror.  One  side  of  this  singular  apartment  was  used  as  a 
treasury  for  the  spoils  of  the  band,  and  on  the  points  of  the  white 
cones  hung  pitchers  and  altar  lamps  of  silver,  gold  drinking-cups, 
and  chains,  and  plate  and  jewelery  of  every  age  and  description. 
Farther  on  were  piled,  in  unthrifty  confusion,  heaps  of  velvets 
and  silks,  fine  broadcloths,  French  gloves,  shoes  and  slippers, 
brocades  of  Genoa,  pieces  of  English  linen,  damask  curtains 
still  fastened  to  their  cornices,  a  harp  and  mandolin,  cases  of 
damaged  bons-bons,  two  or  three  richly-bound  books,  and  (last 
and  most  valuable  in  my  eyes),  a  miniature  bureau,  evidently  the 
plunder  of  some  antiquary's  treasure,  containing  in  its  little 
drawers  antique  gold  coins  of  India,  carefully  dated  and  arranged, 
with  a  list  of  its  contents  half  torn  from  the  lid. 

"  You  should  hear  Tranchcoaur's  sermons  on  these  pretty 
texts,"  said  the  countess,  trying  to  thrust  open  a  bale  of  Brusa 
Bilk  with  her  Turkish  slipper.  "  He  will  beat  off  the  top  of 
a  stalagmite  with  his  sabre-hilt,  and  sit  down  and  talk 
over  his  spoils  and  the  adventures  they  recall,  till  morning 
dawns." 

"  And  how  is  that  discovered  in  this  sunless  cave  ?" 

"  By  the  perfume.  The  river  brings  news  of  it,  and  fills  the 
cavern  with  the  sun's  first  kisses.  Those  violets  '  kiss  and  tell,' 
Mr.  Tyrell !  Apropos  des  bottes,  let  us  look  into  the  kitchen." 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  289 


We  turned  to  the  right,  keeping  on  the  same  level,  and  a  few 
steps  brought  us  to  the  brow  of  a  considerable  descent,  forming 
the  lower  edge  of  the  carpeted  platform,  but  separated  from  it  by 
a  wall  of  close  stalactites.  At  the  bottom  of  the  descent  ran 
the  river,  but  just  along  the  brink,  forming  a  considerable  cres 
cent,  extended  a  flat  rock,  occupied  by  all  the  varied  implements 
of  a  kitchen,  and  lighted  by  the  glare  of  two  or  three  different 
fires  blazing  against  the  perpendicular  limit  of  the  cave.  The 
smoke  of  these  followed  the  inclination  of  the  wall,  and  was 
swept  entirely  down  with  the  current  of  the  river.  At  the  near 
est  fire  stood  Perdicaris,  a  fat,  long-haired  and  sinister-looking 
rascal,  his  noseless  face  glowing  with  the  heat,  and  at  his  side 
waited,  with  a  silver-dish,  the  Nubian  slave  who  had  been  sent 
for  Tranchcoeur's  omelette. 

"  One  of  the  most  bloody  fights  of  my  friend  the  rover,''  said 
Iminild,  "  was  with  an  armed  slaver,  from  whom  he  took  these 
six  pages  of  mine.  They  have  reason  enough  to  comprehend 
an  order,  but  too  little  to  dream  of  liberty.  They  are  as  con 
tented  as  tortoises,  ici-bas." 

"  Is  there  no  egress  hence  but  by  the  iron  door  ?" 

"  None  that  I  know  of,  unless  one  could  swim  up  this  swift  river 
like  a  salmon.  You  may  have  surmised  by  this  time,  that  we  mo 
nopolize  an  unexplored  part  of  the  great  cave  of  Adelsberg.  Com 
mon  report  says  it  extends  ten  miles  under  ground,  but  common 
report  has  never  burrowed  as  far  as  this,  and  I  doubt  whether 
there  is  any  communication.  Father  Krakenpate's  clock  con 
ceals  an  entrance,  discovered  first  by  robbers,  and  handed  down 
by  tradition,  Heaven  knows  how  long.  But — hark  !  Tranchcoeur, 
by  Heaven  !  my  heart  foreboded  it !" 

I  sprang  after  the  countess,  who  with  her  last  exclamation, 
13 


290  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


darted  between  fwo  of  the  glittering  columns  separating  us  from 
the  platform,  and  my  first  glance  convinced  me  that  her  fullest 
anticipations  of  the  pirate's  jealousy  were  more  than  realized. 
Percie  stood  with  his  back  to  a  tall  pillar  on  the  farther  side,  with 
his  pistol  levelled,  calm  and  unmovable  as  a  stalactite ;  and  with 
his  sabre  drawn  and  his  eyes  flashing  fire,  a  tall,  powerfully-built 
man  in  a  sailor's  dress,  was  arrested  by  Iminild  in  the  act  of 
rushing  on  him.  "  Stop  !  or  you  die,  Tranchcosur  !''  said  the 
countess  in  a  tone  of  trifling  command.  "  He  is  my  guest !" 

"  He  is  my  prisoner,  madame  I"  was  the  answer,  as  the  pirate 
changed  his  position  to  one  of  perfect  repose,  and  shot  his  sabre 
iuto  his  sheath,  as  if  a  brief  dolay  could  make  little  difference. 

"  We  shall  see  that,"  said  the  countess  once  more,  with  as  soft 
a  voice  as  was  ever  heard  in  a  lady's  boudoir ;  and  stepping  to 
the  edge  of  the  platform,  she  touched  with  her  slipper  a  suspended 
gong,  which  sent  through  the  cavern  a  shrill  reverberation  heard 
clearly  over  the  rushiug  music  of  the  river. 

In  an  instant  the  click  of  forty  muskets  from  the  other  side 
fell  on  our  ears  ;  and,  at  a  wave  of  her  hand,  the  butts  rattled  on 
the  rocks,  and  all  was  still  again. 

"  I  have  not  trusted  myself  within  your  reach,  Monsieur 
Tranchcosur,"  said  Iminild,  flinging  herself  carelessly  on  an  otto 
man,  and  motioning  Percie  to  keep  his  stand,  "  without  a  score 
or  two  of  my  free-riders  from  Mount  Semering  to  regulate  your 
Conscience.  I  am  mistress  here,  sir  !  You  may  sit  down  !" 

Tranchcoeur  had  assumed  an  air  of  the  most  gentlemanly 
tranquillity,  and  motioning  to  one  of  the  slaves  for  his  pipe, 
he  politely  begged  pardon  for  smoking  in  the  countess's  presence, 
and  filled  the  enamelled  bowl  with  Shiraz  tobacco. 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  291 

"  You  heard  of  Yvain's  death  ?"  she  remarked  after  a  moment, 
passing  her  hand  over  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  at  Venice." 

"  With  his  dying  words,  he  gave  me  and  mine  in  charge  to 
this  Englishman.  Mr.  Tyrell,  Monsieur  Tranchcoeur. " 

The  pirate  bowed. 

"  Have  you  been  long  from  England  ?"  he  asked,  with  an  accent 
and  voice  that  even  in  that  brief  question,  savored  of  the  non 
chalant  English  of  the  west  end. 

"  Two  years  !"  I  answered. 

"  I  should  have  supposed  much  longer  from  your  chivalry  in 
St.  Etienne,  Mr.  Tyrell.  My  countrymen  generally  are  less 
hasty.  Your  valet  there,"  he  continued,  looking  sneeringly  at 
Percie,  "  seems  as  quick  on  the  trigger  as  his  master." 

Percie  turned  on  his  heel,  and  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  plat 
form  as  if  uneasy  at  the  remark,  and  Iminild  rose  to  her  feet. 

"  Look  you,  Tranchcoeur !  I'll  have  none  of  your  sneers. 
That  youth  is  as  well-born  and  better  bred  than  yourself,  and 
with  his  consent,  shall  have  the  authority  of  the  Loly  church  ere 
long  to  protect  my  propu.  ty  and  me.  Will  you  aid  me  in  this, 
Mr.  Tyrell  ?'» 

"  Willingly,  countess  !" 

"  Then,  Tranchcoeur,  farewell !  I  have  withdrawn  from  the 
common  stock  Yvain's  gold  and  jewels,  and  I  trust  to  your  sense 
of  honor  to  render  me  at  Venice  whatever  else  of  his  private  pro 
perty  may  be  concealed  in  the  island." 

"  Tminild  !"  cried  the  pirate,  springing  to  his  feet,  "  I  did  not 
think  to  show  a  weakness  before  this  stranger,  but  I  implore  you 
to  delay !" 

His  bosom  heaved  with  strong  emotion  as  he  spoke,  and  the 


292  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


color  fled  from  his  bronzed  features  as  if  he  were  struck  with  a 

mortal  sickness. 

* 

"I  cannot,  lose  you,  Iminild !  I  have  loved  you  too  long. 
You  must " 

She  motioned  to  Percie  to  pass  on. 

"  13y  Heaven,  you  shall !"  h'e  cried,  in  a  voice  suddenly  become 
hoarse  with  passion ;  and  reckless  of  consequences,  he  leaped 
across  the  heaps  of  cushion,  and,  seizing  Percie  by  the  throat, 
flung  him  with  terrible  and  headlong  violence  into  the  river. 

A  scream  from  Iminild,  and  the  report  of  a  musket  from  the 
other  side,  rang  at  the  same  instant  through  the  cavern,  and  as  I 
rushed  forward  to  seize  the  pistol  which  he  had  struck  from 
Percie's  hand,  his  half-drawn  sabre  slid  back  powerless  into  the 
sheath,  and  Tranchcoeur  dropped  heavily  on  his  knee. 

"  I  am  peppered,  Mr.  Tyrell  !"  he  said,  waving  me  off  with 
a  difficult  effort  to  smile,  "  look  after  the  boy,  if  you  care  for  him  ! 
A  curse  on  her  German  wolves  !" 

Percie  met  me  on  the  bridge,  supporting  Iminild,  who  hung  ou 
his  neck,  smothering  him  with  kisses. 

"  Where  is  that  dog  of  a  pirate  ?"  she  cried,  suddenly  snatch 
ing  her  ataghan  from  the  sheath  and  fl}ing  across  the  platform. 
"  Tranchcoeur  !" 

Her  hand.was  arrested  by  the  deadly  pallor  and  helpless  atti 
tude  of  the  wounded  man,  and  the  weapon  dropped  as  she  stood 
over  him. 

"  I  think  it  is  not  mortal,"  he  said,  groaning  as  he  pressed  his 
hand  to  his  side,  "  but  take  your  boy  out  of  my  sight !  Iminild  !" 

"  Well,  Tranchcoeur  !" 

"  I  have  not  done  well — but  you  know  my  nature — and  my 


THE  BANDIT  OF  AUSTRIA.  293 


love  !  Forgive  me,  and  farewell !  Send  Bertram  to  stanch  this 
blood — I  get  faint!  A  little  wine,  Tminild  !" 

He  took  the  massive  flagon  from  her  hand,  and  drank  a  long 
draught,  and  then  drawing  to  him  a  cloak  which  lay  near,  he 
covered  his  head  and  dropped  on  his  side  as  if  to  sleep. 

Iminild  knelt  beside  him  and  tore  open  the  shirt  beneath  his 
jacket,  and  while  she  busied  herself  in  stanching  the  blood,  Per- 
dicavis,  apparently  well  prepared  for  such  accidents,  arrived  with 
a  surgeon's  probe,  and,  on  examination  of  the  wound,  assured 
Iminild  that  she  might  safely  leave  him.  Washing  her  hands  in 
the  flagon  of  wine,  she  threw  a  cloak  over  the  wet  and  shivering 
Percie,  and,  silent  with  horror  at  the  scene  behind  us,  we  made 
our  way  over  the  bridge,  and  in  a  short  time,  to  my  infinite  re 
lief,  stood  in  the  broad  moonlight  on  the  portico  of  Mynheer. 
Krakenpate. 

My  carriage  was  soon  loaded  with  the  baggage  and  treasure  of 
the  countess,  and  with  the  same  swift  horses  that  had  brought  us 
from  Planina,  we  regained  the  post-road  and  sped  on  toward 
Venice  by  the  Friuli.  We  arrived  on  the  following  night  at  the 
fair  city  so  beloved  of  romance,  and  with  what  haste  I  might,  I 
procured  a  priest  and  married  the  Countess  Iminild  to  gentleman 
Percie. 

As  she  possessed  now  a  natural  guardian,  and  a  sufficient 
means  of  life,  I  felt  released  from  my  death  vow  to  Yvain,  and 
bidding  farewell  to  the  "  happy  couple,"  I  resumed  my  quiet 
habit  of  travel,  and  three  days  after  my  arrival  at  Venice,  was  on 
the  road  to  Padua  by  the  Brenta. 


MY  ONE  ADVENTURE  AS  A  BRIGAND, 

I  WAS  standing  in^  hostelry,  at  Geneva,  making  a  bargain  with 
an  Italian  for  a  place  in  a  return  carriage  to  Florence,  when  an 
Englishman,  who  had  been  in  the  same  steamer  with  me  on  Lake 
Leman,  the  day  before,  came  in  and  stood  listening  to  the  con 
versation.  We  had  been  the  only  two  passengers  on  board,  but 
Lad  passed  six  hours  in  each  other's  company  without  speaking. 
The  road  to  an  Englishman's  friendship  is  to  have  shown  your 
self  perfectly  indiflferent  to  his  acquaintance,  and,  as  I  liked  him 
from  the  first,  we  were  now  ready  to  be  conscious  of  each  other's 
existence. 

"  I  beg  pardon,"  said  he,  advancing  in  a  pause  of  the  vettu- 
rino's  oration,  "  will  you  allow  me  to  engage  a  place  with  you  ? 
I  am  going  to  Florence,  and  if  agreeable  to  you,  we  will  take  the 
carriage  to  ourselves." 

I  agreed  very  willingly,  and  in  two  hours  we  were  free  of  the 
gates  of  Geneva,  and  keeping  along  the  edge  of  the  lake,  in  the 
cool  twilight  of  one  of  the  loveliest  of  heaven's  summer  evenings. 
The  carriage  was  spaciously  contrived  for  four ;  and,  with  the 
curtains  up  all  around,  our  feet  on  the  forward  seat,  my  com 
panion  smoking,  and  conversation  bubbling  up  to  please  itself,  we 
rolled  over  the  smooth  road,  gliding  into  the  first  chapter  of  our 


MY  ONE  ADVENTURE  AS  A   BRIGAND.  295 


acquaintance  as  tranquilly  as  Geoffrey  Crayon  and  his  reader  into 
the  first  chapter  of  anything  he  has  written. 

My  companion  (Mr.  St.  John  Elmslie,  as  put  down  in  his 
passport)  seemed  to  have  something  to  think  of  beside  pro 
pitiating  my  good  will,  but  he  was  considerate  and  winning,  from 
evident  high  breeding,  and  quite  open,  himself,  to  my  most  scruti 
nizing  study.  He  was  about  thirty,  and,  without  any  definite 
beauty,  was  a  fine  specimen  of  a  man.  Probably  most  persons 
would  have  called  him  handsome.  I  liked  him  better,  probably, 
from  the  subdued  melancholy  with  which  h«  brooded  on  his  secret 
thought,  whatever  it  might  be — sad  men,  in  this  world  of  boister 
ous  gayety  or  selfish  ill-humor,  interesting  me  always. 

From  that  something,  on  which  his  memory  fed  in  quiet  but 
constant  revery,  nothing  aroused  my  companion  except  the  pass 
ing  of  a  travelling  carriage,  going  in  the  other  direction,  oil  our 
arrival  at  an  inn.  1  began  to  suspect,  indeed,  after  a  little  while, 
that  Elmslie  had  some  understanding  with  our  vetturino,  for, 
on  the  approach  of  any  vehicle  of  pleasure,  our  horses  became 
restiff,  and,  with  a  sudden  pull  up,  stood  directly  across  the 
way.  Out  jumped  my  friend  to  assist  in  controlling  the  restiff 
animals,  and,  in  the  five  minutes  during  which  the  strangers  were 
obliged  to  wait,  we  generally  saw  their  heads  once  or  twice  thrust 
inquiringly  from  the  carriage  window.  This  done,  our  own  vehi 
cle  was  again  wheeled  about,  and  the  travellers  allowed  to  pro 
ceed. 

We  had  arrived  at  Bologna  with  but  one  interruption  to  the 
quiet  friendliness  of  our  intercourse.  Apropos  of  some  vein  of 
speculation,  I  had  asked  my  companion  if  he  were  married.  He 
was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then,  in  a  jocose  tone  of  voice  which 
was  new  to  me,  replied,  "  I  believe  I  have  a  wife — somewhere  in 


296  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


Scotland."  But  though  Elinslie  had  determined  to  show  me  that  he 
was  neither  annoyed  nor  offended  at  my  inquisitiveness,  his  man 
ner  changed.  He  grew  ceremonious.  For  the  remainder  of  that 
day,  I  felt  uncomfortable,  I  scarce  knew  why ;  and  I  silently  de 
termined  that  if  my  friend  continued  so  exceediugly  well-bred  in 
his  manner  for  another  day,  I  should  find  an  excuse  for  leaving 
him  at  Bologna. 

But  we  had  -left  Bologna,  and,  at  sunset  of  a  warm  day,  wo 
were  slowly  toiling  up  the  Appenines.  The  inn  to  which  we  were 
bound  was  in  sight,  a  mile  or  two  abore  us,  and,  as  the  vetturino 
stopped  to  breathe  his  horses,  Elmslie  jumped  from  the  carriage 
and  started  to  walk  on.  I  took  advantage  of  his  absence  to 
stretch  myself  over  the  vacated  cushions,  and,  on  our  arrival  at 
the  inn,  was  soundly  asleep. 

My  friend's  voice,  in  an  unusual  tone,  awoke  me  ;  and,  by  his 
face,  as  he  looked  in  at  the  carriage  window,  I  saw  that  he  was  un 
der  gome  extraordinary  excitement.  This  I  observed  by  the  light 
of  the  stable-lantern — for  the  hostelry,  Italian  fashion,  occupied 
the  lower  story  of  the  inn,  and  our  carriage  was  driven  under  the 
archway,  where  the  faint  light  from  without  made  but  little  impres 
sion  on  the  darkness.  I  followed  Elmslie's  beckoning  finger,  and 
climbing  after  him  up  the  stairway  of  stone,  stood  in  a  large  re 
fectory  occupying  the  whole  of  the  second  story  of  the  building. 

At  the  first  glance  I  saw  that  there  was  an  English  party  iu 
the  house.  An  Italian  inn  of  the  lower  order  has  no  provision 
for  private  parties,  and  few,  except  English  travellers,  object  to 
joining  the  common  evening  meal.  The  hall  was  dark  with  the 
twilight,  but  a  large  curtain  was  suspended  across  the  farther  ex 
tremity,  and,  by  the  glimmer  of  lights,  and  an  occasional  sound 
of  a  knife,  a  party  was  within  supping  in  silence. 


MY  ONE  ADVENTURE  AS  A  BRIGAND.  297 

0 

"If  you  speak,  speak  in  Italian,"  whispered 'Elmslie,  taking 
me  by  the  arm,  and  leading  me  on  tiptoe  to  one  of  the  corners 
of  the  curtain. 

I  looked  in  and  saw  two  persons  seated  at  a  table — a  bold  and 
soldierly-looking  man  of  fifty,  and  a  young  lady,  evidently  his 
daughter.  The  beauty  of  the  last-mentioned  person  was  so  ex 
traordinary  that  I  nearly  committed  the  indiscretion  of  an  excla 
mation  in  English.  She  was  slight,  but  of  full  and  well-rounded 
proportions,  and  she  sat  and  moved  with  an  eminent  grace  and 
ladylikeness  altogether  captivating.  Though  her  face  expressed 
a  settled  sadness,  it  was  of  unworn  and  faultless  youth  and  love 
liness,  and  while  her  heavily- fringed  eyes  would  have  done,  in 
their  expression,  for  a  Niobe,  Hebe's  lips  were  not  more  ripe,  nor 
Juno's  arched  more  proudly.  She  was  a  blonde,  with  eyes  and 
eyelashes  darker  than  her  hair — a  kind  of  beauty  almost  peculiar 
to  England. 

The  passing  in  of  a  tall  footman,  in  a  plain  livery  of  gray,  in 
terrupted  my  ga"ze,  and  Elmslie  drew  me  away  by  the  arm,  and 
led  me  into  the  road  in  front  of  the  locanda.  The  night  had 
now  fallen,  and  we  strolled  up  and  down  in  the  glimmer  of  the 
starlight.  My  companion  was  evidently  much  disturbed,  and  we 
made  several  turns  after  I  had  seen  very  plainly  that  he  was 
making  up  his  mind  to  communicate  to  me  the  secret. 

"I  have  a  request  to  make  of  you,"  he  said,  at  last;  "a  ser 
vice  to  exact,  rather,  to  which  there  were  no  hope  that  you  would 
listen  for  a  moment  if  I  did  not  first  tell  you  a  very  singular  story. 
Have  a  little  patience  with  me,  and  I  will  make  it  as  brief  as  I  can 
— the  briefer,  that  I  have  no  little  pain  in  recalling  it  with  the 

distinctness  of  description." 
13* 


298  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


I  expressed  uny  interest  in  all  that  concerned  my  new  friend, 
and  begged  him  to  go  on. 

"  Hardly  siz  years  ago,'1  said  Elmslie,  pressing  my  arm  gently 
in  acknowledgment  of  my  sympathy,  "  I  left  college  and  joined 
my  regiment,  for  the  first  time,  in  Scotland.  By  the  way,  I 

should  re-introduce  myself  to  you  as  Viscount  S ,  of  the  title 

of  which,  then,  I  was  in  prospect.  My  story  hinges -somewhat 
upon  the  fact  that,  as  an  honorable  captain,  a  nobleman  in  ex 
pectancy,  I  was  an  object  of  some  extraneous  interest  to  the 
ladies  who  did  the  flirting  for  the  garrison.  God  forgive  me  for 
speaking  lightly  on  the  subject ! 

"  A  few  evenings  after  my  arrival,  we  had  been  dining  rather 
freely  at  mess,  and  the  major  announced  to  us  that  we  were  in 
vited  to  take  tea  with  a  linen-draper,  whose  house  was  a  popular 
resort  of  the  officers  of  the  regiment.  The  man  had  three  or 
four  daughters,  who,  as  the  phrase  goes,  '  gave  you  a  great  deal 
for  your  money,'  and,  for  romping  and  frolicking,  they  had  good 
looks  and  spirit  enough.  The  youngest  was  really  very  pretty, 
but  the  eldest,  to  whom  I  was  exclusively  presented  by  the  major, 
as  a  sort  of  quiz  on  a  new-comer,  was  a  sharp  and  sneering  old 
maid,  red-headed,  freckled,  and  somewhat  lame.  Not  to  be  out 
done  in  frolic  by  my  persecutor,  I  commenced  making  love  to  Miss 
Jacky  in  mock  heroics,  and  we  were  soon  marching  up  and  down 
the  room,  to  .the  infinite  entertainment  of  my  brother-officers, 
lavishing  on  each  other  every  possible  term  of  endearment. 

"  In  the  midst  of  this  the  major  came  up  to  me  with  rather  a 
serious  face. 

"  '  Whatever  you  do,'  said  he,  '  for  God's  sake  don't  call  the  old 
girl  your  wife.  The  joke  might  be  serious.' 

"  It  was  quite  enough  that  I  was  desired  not  to  do  anything  in 


MY  ONE  ADVENTURE  AS  A  BRIGAND.  299 


the  reign  of  misrule  then  prevailing.  I  immediately  assumed  a 
connubial  air,  to  the  best  of  my  dramatic  ability,  begged  Miss 
Jacky  to  join  me  in  the  frolic,  and  made  the  rounds  of  the  room, 
introducing  the  old  girl  as  Mrs.  Elmslie,  and  receiving  from  her 
quite  as  many  tendernesses  as  were  bearable  by  myself  or  the 
company  present.  I  observed  that  the  lynx-eyed  linen-draper 
watched  this  piece  of  fun  very  closely,  and  my  friend,  the  major, 
seemed  distressed  and  grave  about  it.  But  we  carried  it  out  till 
the  party  broke  up,  and  the  next  day  the  regiment  was  ordered 
over  to  Ireland,  and  I  thought  no  more,  for  a  while,  either  of  Miss 
Jacky  or  my  own  absurdity. 

"  Two  years  afterwards,  I  was,  at  a  drawing-room,  at  St. 
James's,  presented,  for  the  first  time,  by  the  name  which  I  bear. 
It  was  not  a  very  agreeable  event  to  me,  as  our  family  fortunes 
were  inadequate  to  the  proper  support  of  the  title,  and  on  the 
generosity  of  a  maternal  uncle,  who  had  been  at  mortal  variance 
•with  my  father,  depended  our  hopes  of  restoration  to  prosperity. 
From  the  mood  of  bitter  melancholy  in  which  I  had  gone  through 
the  ceremony  of  an  introduction,  I  was  aroused  by  the  murmur  in 
the  crowd  at  the  approach  of  a  young  girl  just  presented  to  the 
king.  She  wa.s  following  a  lady  whom  I  slightly  knew,  and  had 
evidently  been  presented  by  her ;  and,  before  I  had  begun  to  re 
cover  from  my  astonishment  at  her  beauty,  I  was  requested  by 
this  lady  to  give  her  protege  an  arm,  and  follow  to  a  less  crowded 
apartment  of  the  palace. 

"  Ah,  my  friend  !  the  exquisite  beauty  of  Lady  Melicent — but 
you  have  seen  her.  She  is  here,  and  I  must  fold  her  in  my  arms 
to-night,  or  perish  in  the  attempt. 

"  Pardon  me  !"  k^  added,  as  I  was  about  to  interrupt  him  with 
an  explanation.  "  She  has  been — she  is — my  wife  !  She  loved 


300  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


me  and  married  me,  making  life  a  heaven  of  constant  ecstacy — 
for  I  worshipped  her  with  every  fibre  of  my  existence." 

He  paused  and  gave  me  his  story  brokenly,  and  I  waited  for 
him  to  go  on  without  questioning. 

"  We  had  lived  together  in  absolute  and  unclouded  happiness 
for  eight  months,  in  lover-like  seclusion,  at  her  father's  house, 
and  I  was  looking  forward  to  the  birth  of  my  child  with  anxiety 
and  transport,  when  the  death  of  my  uncle  left  me  heir  to  his 
immense  fortune,  and  I  parted  from  my  greater  treasure  to  go 
and  pay  the  fitting  respect  at  his  burial. 

"  I  returned,  after  a  week's  absence,  with  an  impatience  and 
ardor  almost  intolerable,  and  found  the  door  closed  against  me. 

"  There  were  two  letters  for  me  at  the  porter's  lodge — one 

from  Lord  A ,  my  wife's  father,  informing  me  that  the  Lady 

Melicent  had  miscarried  and  was  dangerously  ill,  and  enjoining 
upon  me  as  a  man  of  honor  and  delicacy  never  to  attempt  to  see  her 
again  ;  and  another  from  Scotland,  claiming  a  fitting  support  for  my 
lawful  wife,  the  daughter  of  the  linen-draper.  The  proofs  of  th  e 
marriage,  duly  sworn  to  and  certified  by  the  witnesses  of  my  fatal 
frolic,  were  enclosed,  and  on  my  recovery,  six  weeks  after,  from 
the  delirium  into  which  these  multiplied  horrors  precipitated  me, 
I  found  that,  by  the  Scotch  law,  the  first  marriage  was  valid,  and 
my  ruin  was  irrevocable.'' 

"  And  how  long  since  was  this  ?"  I  inquired,  breaking  in  upon 
his  narration  for  the  first  time. 

"  A  year  and  a  month — and  till  to-night  I  have  not  seen  her. 
But  I  must  break  through  this  dreadful  separation  now — and  I 
must  speak  to  her,  and  press  her  to  my  breast — and  you  will  aid 
me?" 

"  To  the  last  drop  of  my  blood  assuredly.     But  how  ?" 


MY  ONE  ADVENTURE  AS  A  BRIGAND.  3Q1 


*'  Come  to  the  inn !  You  have  not  supped,  and  we  will  de- 
viso  as  you  eat.  And  you  must  lend  me  your  invention,  for  my 
heart  and  brain  seem  to  be  going  wild." 

Two  hours  after,  with  a  pair  of  loaded  pistols  in  my  breast,  we 
went  to  the  chamber  of  the  host,  and  bound  him  and  his  wife  to 
the  posts  of  their  bed.  There  was  but  one  man  about  the 

house,  the  hostler,  and  we  had  made  him  intoxicated  with  our 

• 

travelling  flask  of  brandy.  Lord  A and  his  daughter  were 

still  sitting  up,  and  she,  at  her  chamber  window,  was  watching 
the  just  risen  moon,  over  which  the  clouds  were  drifting  very 
rapidly.  Our  business  was,  now,  only  with  them,  as,  in  their  foot 
man,  my  companion  had  found  an  attached  creature,  who  remem 
bered  him,  and  willingly  agreed  to  offer  no  interruption. 

After  taking  a  pull  at  the  brandy-flask  myself  (for,  in  spite  of 
my  blackened  face  and  the  slouched  hat  of  the  hostler,  I  required 
some  fortification  of  the  muscles  of  my  face  before  doing  violence 
to  an  English  nobleman),  I  opened  the  door  of  the  chamber  which 
must  be  passed  to  gain  access  to  that  of  Lady  Melicent.  It  was 
Lord  A 's  sleeping-room,  and,  though  the  li^ht  was  ex 
tinguished,  I  could  see  that  he  was  still  up,  and  sitting  at  the 
window.  Turning  my  lantern  inward,  I  entered  the  room  and 
set  it  down,  and,  to  my  relief,  Lord  A •  soliloquized  in  Eng 
lish,  that  it  was  the  host  with  a  hint  that  it  was  time  to  go  to 
bed.  My  friend  was  at  the  door,  according  to  my  arrangement, 
ready  to  assist  me  should  I  find  any  difficulty ;  but,  from  the 
dread  of  premature  discovery  of  the  person,  he  was  to  let  me 
manage  it  alone  if  possible. 

Lord  A sat  unsuspectingly  in  the  chair,  with  his  head 

turned  half  way  over  his  shoulders  to  see  why  the  officious  host 
did  not  depart.  I  sprung  suddenly  upon  him,  drew  him  back- 


302  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


ward  and  threw  him  on  his  face,  and  with  my  hand  over  his 
mouth,  threatened  him  with  death,  in  my  choicest  Italian,  if  he 
did  not  remain  passive  till  his  portmanteau  had  been  looked  into. 
I  thought  he  might  submit,  with  the  idea  that  it  was  only  a  rob 
bery,  and  so  it  proved.  He  allowed  me,  after  a  short  struggle, 
to  tie  his  hands  behind  him, and  march  him  down  to  his  carriage, 

before  the  muzzle  of  my  pistol.     The  hostelry  was  still  as  death, 

• 
and  shutting  his  carriage  door  upon   his  lordship,  I  mounted 

guard. 

The  night  seemed  to  me  very  long,  but  morning  dawned,  and, 
with  the  earliest  gray,  the  postillions  came  knocking  at  the  outer 
door  of  the  locanda.  My  friend  went  out  to  them,  while  1  marched 

back  Lord  A to  his  chamber,  and,  by  immense  bribing,  the 

horses  were  all  put  to  our  carriage  a  half  hour  after,  and  the  out-' 
raged  nobleman  was  left  without  the  means  of  pursuit  till  their 
return.  We  reached  Florence  in  safety,  and  pushed  on  imme 
diately  to  Leghorn,  where  we  took  the  steamer  for  Marseilles  and 
eluded  arrest,  very  much  to  my  most  agreeable  surprise. 

By  a  Providence  that  does  not  always  indulge  mortals  with 

removing  those  they  wish  into  another  world,  Lord  S has 

lately  been  freed  from  his  harrowing  chain  by  the  death  of  his 
so-called  lady;  and,  having  re-married  Lady  Melicent,  their  hap 
piness  is  renewed  and  perfect.  In  his  letter  to  me,  announcing 
it,  he  gives  me  liberty  to  tell  the  story,  as  the  secret  was  divul  :vl 

to  Lord  A on   the  day  of  his  second  nuptials.     He  said 

nothing,  however,  of  his  lordship's  forgiveness  for  my  rude  hand 
ling  of  his  person,  and,  in  ceasing  to  be  considered  a  brigand, 
possibly  I  am  responsible  as  a  gentleman. 


COUNT  POTT'S  STRATEGY, 

"  L'Esprit  est  un  faux  monnayeur,  qui  change  continuellement  les  gros  sous 
en  louis  d'or,  et  qui  souvent  fait  de  ses  louis  d'or  des  gros  sous." 

THERE  were  five  hundred  guardian  angels  (and  of  course  as 
many  evil  spirits),  in  and  about  the  merry  premises  of  Congress 
Hall.  Each  gay  guest  had  his  pair  ;  but  though  each  pair  had 
their  special  ministry  (and  there  were  here  and  there  a  guest  who 
would  not  have  objected  to  transform  his,  for  the  time  being,  into 
a  pair  of  trotting  ponies),  the  attention  of  the  cherubic  troop,  it 
may  fairly  be  presumed,  was  directed  mainly  to  the  momentous 
flirtations  of  Miss  C.  Sophy  Onthank,  the  dread  disposer  of  the 
destinies  of  eighty  thousand  innocent  little  dollars. 

Miss  Chittaline  Sophy  (though  this  is  blabbing,  for  that  mys 
terious  "  C.''  was  generally  condemned  to  travel  in  domino) — Miss 
Chittaline  Sophy,  besides  her  good  and  evil  spirit  already  referred 
to,  was  under  the  additional  watch  and  ward  of  a  pair  of  bomba 
zine  aunts,  Miss  Charity  Onthank  and  Miss  Sophy  the  same,  of 
which  she  was  the  united  namesake.  "  Chittaline"  being  the 
embellished  diminutive  of  "  Charity."  These  Hesperian  dragons 
of  old  maids  were  cut  after  the  common  pattern  of  such*  utensils, 
and  of  course  would  not  dignify  a  description  ;  though  this  dis 
paraging  remark  (we  must  stop  long  enough  to  say)  is  not  at  all 


304  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


to  the  prejudice  of  that  occasional  lovc-of-an-old-maid  that  one 
does  sometimes  see — that  four-leaved  clover  of  virginity — that 
star  apart  in  the  spilled  milk  of  the  Via  Lactea  : — 

"For  now  and  then  you  find  one  who  could  rally 

At  forty,  and  go  back  to  twenty-three — 
A  handsome,  plump,  affectionate  '  Aunt  Sally,' 
With  no  rage  for  cats,  flannel,  and  Bohea." 

But  the  two  elderly  Misses  Onthank  were  not  of  this  category. 

By  'the  absence  of  that  Junonic  assurance,  common  to  those 
ladies  who  are  born  and  bred  heiresses,  Miss  C.  Sophy's  auto 
graph  had  not  long  been  an  object  of  interest  at  the  bank.  She 
had  all  the  air  of  having  been  u  brought  up  at  the  trough,"  as 
the  French  phrase  it, 

"  Round  as  a  cipher,  simple  as  good  day," 

and  her  belle-ship  was  still  a  surprise  to  her.  Like  the  red-haired 
and  freckled  who  find,  when  they  get  to  Italy,  that  their  flaming 
peculiarities  are  considered  as  captivating  signs  of  a  skin  too  deli 
cate  for  exposure,  she  received  with  a.  slight  incredulity  the  hom 
age  to  her  unseen  charms — homage  not  the  less  welcome  for  ex 
acting  from  the  giver  an  exercise  of  faith  and  imagination.  The 
same  faith  and  imagination,  she  was  free  to  suppose,  might  find  a 
Venus  within  her  girdle,  as  the  sculptor  sees  one  in  the  goodly 
block  of  marble,  lacking  only  the  removal  of  its  clumsy  covering 
by  chisel  and  sand-paper.  With  no  visible  waist,  she  was  as  tall 
as  a  pump,  and  riotously  rosy  like  a  flowering  rhododendron.  Hair 
brown  and  plenty  of  it.  Teeth  white  and  all  at  home.'  And  her 
voice,  with  but  one  semitone  higher,  would  have  been  an  approved 
contralto. 

Having  thus  compressed   into  a  couple  of  paragraphs  what 


COUNT  POTT'S  STRATEGY.  305 


would  have  served  a  novelist  for  his  first  ten  chapters,  permit  us, 
without  the  bother  of  intermediate  mortar  or  moralizing  (though 
this  is  rather  a  mixed  figure),  to  lay  on  the  next  brick  in  the  shape 
of  a-  hint  at  the  character  of  Miss  Onthank's  two  prominent 
admirers. 

Mr.  Greville  Seville  was  a  New  York  beau.  He  had  all  the 
refinement  that  could  possibly  be  imported.  He  had  seen  those 
who  had  seen  all  that  is  visible  in  the  fashionable  man  of  Lon 
don  and  Paris,  and  he  was  well  versed  in  the  conduits  through 
which  their  several  peculiarities  found  their  way  across  the 
Atlantic.  Faultlessly  booted,  pantalooned,  waistcoated,  and 
shirted,  he  could  afford  to  trust  his  coat  and  scarf  to  Providence, 
and  his  hat  to  Warnock  or  Leary.  He  wore  a  slightly  restrained 
whisker,  and  a  faint  smut  of  an  imperial,  and  his  gloves  fitted 
him  inexorably.  His  figure  was  a  matter  of  course.  He  was 
brought  up  in  New  York,  and  was  one  of  the  four  hundred  thou 
sand  results  (more  or  less)  of  its  drastic  waters — washy  and  short. 
And  he  had  as  good  a  heart  as  is  compatible  with  the  above 
personal  advantages. 

It  would  very  much  have  surprised  the  "  company"  at  Con 
gress  Hall  to  have  seen  Mr.  Chesterfield  Potts  put  down  as  No.  2, 
in  the  emulous  contest  for  the  two  hands  of  Miss  Onthank.  The 
count  (he  was  commonly  called  "  Count  Potts,"  a  compliment  to 
good  manners  not  unusual  in  America),  was,  by  his  own  label,  a 
man  of  "  thirty  and  upward" — by  the  parish  register  possibly 
sixty-two.  He  was  an  upright,  well  preserved,  stylish-looking 
man,  with  an  expensive  wig,  fine  teeth  (commonly  supposed  not 
to  be  indigenous),  and  a  lavish  outlay  of  cotton  batting,  covering 
the  retreat  of  such  of  his  muscular  forces  as  were  inclined  to  re 
tire  from  the  field.  What  his  native  qualities  might  be  was  a 


306  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


branch  of  knowledge  long  since  lost  to  the  world.  His  politeness** 
had  superseded  the  necessity  of  any  particular  inquiry  into  the 
matter  ;  indeed,  we  are  inclined  to  believe  his  politeness  had  su 
perseded  his  character  altogether.  He  was  as  incapable  of  the 
impolite  virtues  (of  which  there  are  several)  as  of  the  impolite  vices. 
Like  cricketing,  punning,  political  speech-making,  and  other  me 
chanical  arts,  complimenting  may  be  brought  to  a  high  degree  of 
dexterity,  and  Count  Potts,  after  a  practice  of  many  years,  could, 
over  most  kinds  of  female  platitude,  spread  a  flattering  unction 
humbugative  to  the  most  suspicious  incredulity.  As  he  told  no 
stories,  made  no  puns,  volunteered  but  little  conversation,  and 
had  the  air  of  a  modest  man  wishing  to  avoid  notice,  the 
blockheads  and  the  very  young  girls  stoutly  denied  his  fascination. 
But  in  the  memory  of  riper  belles,  as  they  went  to  sleep  night 
after  night,  lay  snugly  lodged  and  carefully  treasured,  some  timely 
compliment,  some  soothing  word,  and  though  credited  to  "  old 
Potts,"  the  smile  with  which  it  was  gracefully  re-acknowledged  the 
next  morning  at  breakfast,  would  have  been  warm  enough  for 
young  Ascanius.  "  Nice  old  Potts !"  was  the  faint  murmur  of 
many  a  bright  lip  turning  downward  to  the  pillow  in  the  "  last 
position." 

And  now,  dear  reader,  you  have  an  idea  of  the  forces  in  the 
field,  and  you  probably  know  how  "  the  war  is  carried  on''  at  Sa 
ratoga.  Two  aunts  and  a  guardian  angel  versus  an  evil  spirit  and 
two  lovers — Miss  Onthank's  hand,  the  (well-covered)  bone  of 
contention.  Whether  the  citadel  would  speedily  yield,  and  which 
of  these  two  rival  knights  would  bear  away  the  palm  of  victory, 
were  questions  upon  which  the  majority  of  lookers-on  were  doomed 
to  make  erroneous  predictions.  The  reader,  of  course,  is  in  the 
sagacious  minority. 


COUNT  POTT'S  STRATEGY.  30f 

Mr.  Potts'  income  was  a  net  answer  to  his  morning  prayer.  It 
provided  his  "  daily  bread1'  but  no  provender  for  a  horse.  He 
probably  coveted  Miss  Onthank  as  much  for  her  accompanying 
oats  as  for  her  personal  avoirdupois,  since  the  only  complaint  with 
which  he  ever  troubled  his  acquaintances,  was  one  touching  his 
inability  to  keep  an  equipage.  Man  is  instinctively  a  centaur,  he 
used  to  say,  and  when  you  cut  him  off  from  his  horse  and  reduce 
him  to  his  simple  trunk  (and  a  trunk  was  all  the  count's  worldly 
furniture),  he  is  but  a  mutilated  remainder,  robbed  of  his  natural 
locomotive. 

It  was  not  authenticated  in  Wall-street  that  Mr.  Greville  Se 
ville  was  reasonably  entitled  to  horse-flesh  and  caparison  ;  but  ho 
had  a  trotting  wagon  and  two  delicious  cropped  sorrels  ;  and  those 
who  drove  in  his  company  were  obliged  to  down  with  the  dust"  (a 
bon  mot  of  Count  Potts').  Science  explains  many  of  the  enigmas 
of  common  life,  however,  and  the  secret  of  Mr.  Seville's  equip 
ment  and  other  means  of  going  on  swimmingly,  lay  in  his  unusu 
ally  large  organ  of  hope.  He  was  simply  anticipating  the  arrival 
of  1840,  a  year  in  which  he  had  reason  to  believe  that  there 
•would  be  paid  in  to  the  credit  of  the  present  Miss  Onthank,  a 
sufficient  sum  to  cover  his  loosest  expenditure.  The  intermedi 
ate  transfer  to  himself  of  her  rights  to  the  same,  was  a  mere  fill 
ing  up  of  an  outline,  his  mind  being  entirely  made  up  as  to  the 
conditional  incumbrance  of  the  lady's  person.  He  was  now  pay 
ing  her  some  attentions  in  advance,  and  he  felt  justified  in  charg 
ing  his  expenses  on  the  estate.  She  herself  would  wish  it,  doubt 
less,  if  she  could  look  into  the  future  with  his  eyes. 

By  all  the  common  data  of  matrimonial  skirmishing,  a  lover 
with  horses  easily  outstrips  a  lover  with  none.  Miss  C.  Sophy, 
besides,  was  particularly  fond  of  driving,  and  Seville  was  an  ac- 


308  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


complished  whip.  There  was  no  lack  of  the  "  golden  opportu 
nity"  of  t6te  a  tete,  for,  with  a  deaf  aunt  and  somebody  else  on 
the  back  seat,  he  had  Miss  Onthank  to  himself  on  the  driving 
box,  and  could  talk  to  his  horses  in  the  embarrassing  pauses.  It 
looked  a  clear  case  to  most  observers  ;  and  as  to  Seville,  he  had 
studied  out  a  livery  for  his  future  footman  and  tiger,  and  would 
not  have  taken  an  insurance  at  a  quarter  per  cent. 

But  Potts — ah  !  Potts  had  traced  back  the  wires  of  woman's 
weaknesses.  The  heiress  had  no  conversation  (why  should  she 
have  it  and  money  too  ?),  and  the  part  of  her  daily  drive  which 
she  remembered  with  most  pleasure,  was  the  flourish  of  starting 
and  returning — managed  by  Potts  with  a  pomp  and  circumstance 
that  would  Ijave  done  honor  to  the  goings  and  comings  of  Queen 
Victoria.  Once  away  from  the  portico,  it  was  a  monotonous  drag 
through  the  dust  for  two  or  three  hours,  and  as  most  ladies  know, 
it  takes  a  great  deal  of  chit-chat  to  butter  so  large  a  slice  of  time  ; 
for  there  was  no  making  love,  parbleu:'  Miss  Chittaline  Onthank 
was  of  a  stratum  of  human  nature  susceptible  of  no  sentiment 
less  substantial  than  a  kiss,  and  when  the  news,  and  the  weather, 
and  the  virtues  of  the  sorrel  ponies,  were  exhausted,  the  talk 
came  to  a  stand-still.  The  heiress  began  to  remember  with  alarm 
that  her  education  had  been  neglected,  and  that  it  was  a  relief 
to  get  back  to  old  Potts  and  the  portico. 

Fresh  from  his  nap  and  warm  bath,  the  perfumed  count  step 
ped  out  from  the  group  he  had  purposely  collected,  gave  her  his 
hand  with  a  deferential  inquiry,  spread  the  loungers  to  the  right 
and  left  like  an  "  usher  of  the  black  rod,"  and  with  some  well- 
studied  impromptu  compliment,  waited  on  her  to  her  chamber 
door.  He  received  her  again  after  her  toilet,  and  for  the  remain 
der  of  the  day  devoted  his  utmost  powers  to  her  aggrandizement. 


COUNT  POTT'S  STRATEGY.  309 


If  talking  alone  with  her,  it  was  to  provoke  her  to  some  passage 
of  school-girl  autobiography,  and  listen  like  a  charmed  stone  to 
the  harp  of  Orpheus.  If  others  were  near,  it  was  to  catch  her 
stupidities  half  uttered  and  twist  them  into  sense  before  they 
came  to  the  ground.  His  own  clevernesses  were  prefaced  with 
u  As  you  remarked  yesterday,  Miss  Onthank,"  or,  "  As  you  were 
about  to  say  when  I  interrupted  you."  If  he  touched  her  foot,  it 
was  "  so  small  he  didn't  see  it."  If  she  uttered  an  irredeemable 
and  immitigable  absurdity,  he  covered  its  retreat  with  some  sud 
den  exclamation.  He  called  her  pensive,  when  she  was  sleepy 
and  vacant.  He  called  her  romantic,  when  he  couldn't  under 
stand  her.  In  short,  her  vanity  was  embodied — turned  into  a 
magician  and  slave — and  in  the  shape  of  Count  Chesterfield  Potts 
ministered  to  her  indefatigably. 

But  the  summer  solstice  began  to  wane.  A  week  more  was 
all  that  was  allotted  to  Saratoga  by  that  great  American  com 
mander,  General  Consent. 

Count  Potts  came  to  breakfast,  in  a  shawl  cravat ! 

"  Off,  Potts  ?" 

"  Are  you  flitting,  my  dear  count  ?" 

"  What— going  away,  dear  Mr.  Potts  ?" 

"  Gracious  me  !  don't  go,  Mr.  Potts  !" 

The  last  exclamation  was  sent  across  the  table  in  a  tone  of 
alarm  by  Miss  C.  Sophy,  and  responded  to  only  by  a  bow  of  obse 
quious  melancholy. 

Breakfast  was  over,  and  Potts  arose.  His  baggage  was  at  the 
door.  He  sought  no  interview  with  Miss  Onthank.  He  did  not 
even  honor  the  two  bombazinities  with  a  farewell.  He  stepped 
up  to  the  group  of  belles,  airing  their  demi- toilets  on  the  portico, 
said  "  Ladies  !  au  revoir !"  took  the  heiress's  hand  and  put  it 


310  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


gallantly   toward   his   lips,   and   walked   off  with  his  umbrella, 
requesting  the  driver  to  pick  him  up  at  the  spring. 
"  He  has  been  refused  !"  said  one. 

"  He  has  given  Seville  a  clear  field  in  despair  !"  said  another. 
And  this  was  the  general  opinion. 

The  day  crept  on.  But  there  -was  an  emptiness  without  Potts. 
Seville  had  the  field  to  himself,  and  as  there  was  no  fear  of  a  new 
squatter,  he  thought  he  might  dispense  with  tillage.  They  had  a 
very  dull  drive  and  a  very  dull  dinner,  and  in  the  evening,  as 
there  was  no  ball,  Seville  went  off  to  play  billiards.  Miss  Ou- 
thank  was  surrounded,  as  usual,  by  the  belles  and  beaux,  but  she 
was  down  flat — unmagnetized,  ungalvanized.  The  magician  was 
gone.  Her  stupid  things  "stayed  put."  She  was  like  a  glass 
bead  lost  from  a  kaleidoscope. 

That  weary  week  was  spent  in  lamentations  over  Potts.  Eve 
rybody  praised  him.  Everybody  complimented  Miss  Onthank  on 
her  exclusive  power  of  monopoly  over  such  porcelain  ware.  The 
two  aunts  were  his  main  glorifiers  ;  for,  as  Potts  knew,  tin  y 
were  of  that  leathery  toughness  that  only  shines  on  you  with 
rough  usage. 

We  have  said  little,  as  yet,  of  Miss  Outhank's  capabilities  in 
the  love  line.  We  doubt,  indeed,  whether  she  rightly  understood 
the  difference  between  loving  and  being  born  again.  As  to  giving 
away  her  heart,  she  believed  she  could  do  what  her  mother  did 
before  her,  but  she  would  rather  it  would  be  one  of  her  back 
teeth,  if  that  would  do  as  well.  She  liked  Mr.  Potts  because  he 
never  made  any  difficulty  about  such  things. 

Seville  considered  himself  accepted,  though  he  had  made  no 
direct  proposition.  He  had  asked-  whether  she  preferred  to  live 
in  country  or  town — she  said  "  town."  He  had  asked  if  she 


COUNT  POTT'S  STRATEGY.  31 1 


would  leave  the  choice  and  management  of  horses  and  equipages 
to  him — she  said  "  be  sure  !"  He  had  asked  if  she  had  any 
objection  to  his  giving  bachelor  dinners  occasionally — she  said 
"  la  !  no  !"  As  he  understood  it,  the  whole  thing  was  most  com 
fortably  arranged,  and  he  lent  money  to  several  of  his  friends  on 
the  strength  of  it — giving  his  note,  this  is  to  say. 

On  a  certain  morning,  some  ten  days  after  the  departure  of  tha 
count  from  Saratoga,  Miss  Onthank  and  her  two  aunts  sat  up  in 
state  in  their  parlor  at  the  City  Hotel.  They  always  went  to  the 
City  Hotel  because  Willard  remembered  their  names,  and  asked 
after  their  uncle  the  Major.  Mr.  Seville's  ponies  and  wagon 
were  at  the  door,  and  Mr.  Seville's  father,  mother,  seven  sisters, 
and  two  small  brothers,  were  in  the  progress  of  a  betrothal  visit — • 
calling  on  the  future  Mrs.  Greville  Seville. 

All  of  a  sudden  the  door  was  thrown  open,  and  enter  Count 
Potts  ! 

Up  jumped  the  enchanted  Chittaline  Sophy. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Potts  ?" 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Potts  !"  said  the  aunts  in  a  breath. 

"  D'ye-do,  Potts  !"  said  Seville,  giving  him  his  fore-finger, 
with  the  air  of  a  man  rising  from  winning  at  cards. 

Potts  made  his  compliments  all  round.  He  was  about  sailing 
for  Carolina,  he  said,  and  had  come  to  ask  permission  of  Miss 
Onthank  to  leave  her  sweet  society  for  a  few  years  of  exile.  But 
as  this  was  the  last  of  his  days  of  pleasure,  at  least  till  he  saw 
Miss  Onthank  again,  he  wished  to  be  graced  with  the  honor  of 
her  arm  for  a  promenade  in  Broadway.  The  ladies  and  Mr.  Se 
ville  doubtless  would  excuse  her  if  she  put  on  her  bonnet  without 
further  ceremony. 

Now  Potts's  politenesses  had  such  an  air  of  irresistible  authority 


312  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


that  people  fell  into  their  track  like  cars  after  a  locomotive. 
While  Miss  Onthank  was  bonneting  and  shawling,  the  count  en 
tertained  the  entire  party  most  gayly,  though  the  Sevilles 
thought  it  rather  unceremonious  in  the  affianced  miss  to  leave 
them  in  the  midst  of  a  first  visit,  and  Mr.  Greville  Seville  had 
arranged  to  send  his  mother  home  on  foot,  and  drive  Miss  Onthank 
out  to  Harlem. 

u  I'll  keep  my  horses  here  till  you  come  back  !"  he  shouted 
after  them,  as  she  tripped  gayly  down  stairs  on  the  count's  arm. 

And  so  he  did.  Though  it  was  two  hours  before  she  appeared 
again,  the  impatient  youth  kept  the  old  aunts  company,  and  would 
have  stayed  till  night,  sorrels  and  all — for  in  that  drive  he  meant 
to  "  name  the  day,"  and  put  his  creditors  at  ease. 

"  I  wouldn't  even  go  up  stairs,  my  dear  !"  said  the  count, 
handing  her  to  the  wagon,  and  sending  up  the  groom  for  his  mas 
ter,  "it's  but  an  hour  to  dine,  and  you'll  like  the  air  after  your 
fatigue.  Ah,  Seville,  I've  brought  her  back !  Take  good  care 
of  her  for  my  sake,  my  good  fellow  !" 

"  What  the  devil  has  his  sake  to  do  with  it,  I  wonder  ?"  said 
Seville,  letting  his  horses  off  like  two  rockets  in  harness. 

And  away  they  went  toward  Harlem  ;  and  in  about  an  hour, 
very  much  to  the  surprise  of  the  old  aunts,  who  were  looking  out 
of  the  parlor  window,  the  young  lady  dismounted  from  an  omni 
bus  !  Count  Potts  had  come  to  dine  with  them,  and  he  tripped 
down  to  meet  her  with  uncommon  agility. 

"  Why,  do  you  know,  aunties  !"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  came  up 
stairs  out  of  breath,  "  do  you  know  that  Mr.  Seville,  when  I  told 
him  I  was  married  already  to  Mr.  Potts,  stopped  his  wagon,  and 
p-p-put  me  into  an  omnibus  '." 

"  Married  to  Mr.  Potts  !"  screamed  Aunt  Charity. 


COUNT  POTT'S  STRATEGY.  313 


"  Married  to  Mr.  Potts !"  screamed  Aunt  Sophy. 

Why — yes,  aunties ;  he  said  he  must  go  south,  if  I  didn't !" 
drawled  out  the  bride,  with  only  a  very  little  blush  indeed.  "  Tell 
aunties  all  about  it,  Mr.  Potts  !" 

And  Mr.  Potts,  with  the  same  smile  of  infallible  propriety, 
which  seemed  a  warrant  for  everything  he  said  or  did,  gave  a  very 
sketchy  account  of  his  morning's  work,  which,  like  all  he  under 
took,  had  been  exceedingly  well  done — properly  witnessed,  certi 
fied,  &c.,  &c.,  &c.  All  of  which  shows  the  very  sound  policy  of 
first  making  yourself  indispensable  to  people  you  wish  to  manage. 
Or.  put  it  receipt-wise  : — 

To  marry  a  fiat : — First,  raise  her  up  till  she  is  giddy.  Se 
cond,  go  away,  and  let  her  down.  Third,  come  back,  and  offer 
to  support  her,  if  she  will  give  you  her  hand. 

"  Simple,  comme  bonjour  !"  as  Balsac  says. 


THE  POWER  OF  AN  "INJURED  LOOK," 
CHAPTER  I. 

I  HAD  a  sort  of  candle-light  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Philip 
McRueit  when  we  were  in  college.  I  mean  to  say  that  I  had  a 
daylight  repugnance  to  him,  and  never  walked  with  him  or  talked 
with  him,  or  rode  with  him,  or  sat  with  him  ;  and,  indeed,  seldom 
saw  him — except  as  one  of  a  club  oyster-party  of  six.  He  was  a 
short,  sharp,  satirical  man  (nicknamed  "  my  cruet^  by  his  cronies 
— rather  descriptively !)  but  as  plausible  and  vindictive  as 
Mephistopheles  before  and  after  the  ruin  of  a  soul.  In  some 
other  state  of  existence  I  had  probably  known  and  suffered  by 
Phil.  McRueit — for  I  knew  him  like  the  sleeve  of  an  old  coat, 
the  first  day  I  laid  eyes  on  him  ;  though  other  people  seemed  to 
have  no  such  instinct.  Oh,  we  were  not  new  acquaintances— 
from  whatever  star  he  had  been  transported,  for  his  sins,  to  thia 
plkuet  of  dirt.  I  think  he  was  of  the  same  opinion,  himself.  He 
chose  between  open  warfare  and  conciliation  in  the  first  five  min 
utes — after  seeing  me  as  a  stranger — chose  the  latter. 

Six  or  seven  years  after  leaving  college,  I  was  following  my 
candle  up  to  bed  rather  musingly,  one  night  at  the  Astor,  and 
on  turning  a  corner,  I  was  obliged  to  walk  round  a  short  gen- 


THE  POWER  OF  AN  "INJURED  LOOK."  315 


tleman  who  stood  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  in  an  attitude  of 
fixed  contemplation.  As  I  weathered  the  top  of  his  hat  rather 
closely,  I  caught  the  direction  of  his  eye,  and  saw  that  he  was 
regarding,  very  fixedly,  a  pair  of  rather  dusty  kid  slippers,  which 
had  been  set  outside  the  door,  probably  for  cleaning,  by  the  occu 
pant  of  the  chamber  opposite.  As  the  gentleman  did  not  move, 
I  turned  on  the  half  landing  of  the  next  flight  of  stairs,  and 
looked  back,  breaking  in,  by  my  sudden  pause,  upon  his  fit  of 
abstraction.  It  was  McRueit,  and  on  recognizing  me,  he  imme 
diately  beckoned  me  to  his  side. 

"  Does  it  strike  you,''  said  he,  "  that  there  is  anything  pecu 
liar  in  that  pair  of  shoes  ?" 

"  No — except  that  they  certify  to  two  very  small  feet  on  the 
other  side  of  the  door." 

"  Not  merely  '  small/  my  dear  fellow  !  Do  you  see  where  the 
pressure  has  been  in  those  slender  shoes,  how  straight  the  inside 
line,  how  arched  the  instep,  how  confidingly  flat  the  pressure  down 
ward  of  the  little  great  toe  !  It's  a  woman  of  sweet  and  relying  char 
acter  who  wore  that  shoe  to-day,  and  I  must  know  her.  More,  sir, 
I  must  marry  her  !  Ah,  you  laugh — but  I  will  !  There's  a  mag 
netism  in  that  pair  of  shoes  addressed  to  me  only.  Beg  your 
pardon — good  night — I'll  go  town  stairs  and  find  out  her  number 
— '  74  !'  I'll  be  well  acquainted  with '  74'  by  this  time  to-morrow !" 

For  the  unconscious  young  lady  asleep  in  that  room,  I  lay  awake 
half  the  night,  troubled  with  foreboding  pity.  I  knew  the  man. 
so  well,  I  was  so  certain  that  ke  would  leave  nothing  possible  un 
done  to  carry  out  this  whimsical  purpose.  I  knew  that  from  that 
moment  was  levelled,  point-blank,  at  the  lady,  whoever  she  might 
be  (if  single)  a  battery  of  devilish  and  pertinacious  ingenuity, 
which  would  carry  most  any  small  fort  of  a  heart,  most  any  way 


316  FUN   JOTTINGS. 


barricaded  and  defended.  He  was  well  off,  he  was  well-looking 
enough ;  he  was  deep  and  crafty.  But  if  he  did  win  her,  she 
was  gone  !  gone,  I  knew,  from  happiness,  like  a  stone  from  a 
sling.  He  was  a  tyrant — subtle  in  his  cruelties  to  all  people  de 
pendent  on  him — and  her  life  would  be  one  of  refined  torture, 
neglect,  betrayal  and  tears. 

A  "fit  of  intermittent  disgust  for  strangers,  to  which  all  persons 
living  in  hotels  are  more  or  less  liable,  confined  my  travels,  for 
some  days  after  this  rencontre,  to  the  silence-and-slop  thorough 
fare  of  the  back-stairs.  "  Coming  to  my  feed"  of  society  one 
rainy  morning,  I  went  into  the  drawing-room  after  breakfast,  and 
was  not  surprised  to  see  McRueit  in  a  posture  of  absorbed  atten 
tion  beside  a  lady.  His  stick  stood  on  the  floor,  and  with  his  left 
cheek  resting  on  the  gold  head,  he  was  gazing  into  her  face,  and 
evidently  keeping  her  perfectly  at  her  ease  as  to  the  wants  and 
gaps  of  conversation,  as  he  knew  how  to  do — for  he  was  the  readiest 
man  with  his  brick  and  mortar  whom  I  ever  had  encountered. 

"  Who  is  that  lady  ?"  I  asked  of  an  omni-acquainted  old  bach 
elor  friend  of  mine. 

"  Miss  Jonthee  Twitt — and  what  can  be  the  secret  of  that 
rather  exclusive  gentleman's  attention  to  her,  I  cannot  fancy." 

J  pulled  a  newspaper  from  my  pocket,  and  seating  myself  in 
one  of  the  deep  windows,  commenced  rather  a  compassionate 
study  of  Miss  Twitt — intending  fully,  if  I  should  find  her  interest 
ing,  to  save  her  from  the  clutches  of  my  detestable  classmate. 

She  was  a  slight,  hollow-chested,  consumptive-looking  girl,  with 
a  cast  of  features  that  any  casual  observer  would  be  certain  to 
describe  as  "  interesting."  With  the  first  two  minutes'  gaze 
upon  her,  my  sympathies  were  active  enough  for  a  rniMMk 
against  a  whole  army  of  connubial  tyrants.  I  suddenly  paused, 


THE  POWER  OF  AN  "INJURED  LOOK." 


however.  Something  McRueit  said  made  a  change  in  the  lady's 
countenance.  She  sat  just  as  still  ;  she  did  not  move  her  head 
from  its  negligent  posture  ;  her  eyebrows  did  not  contract  ;  her 
lips  did  not  stir  ;  but  the  dull,  sickly-colored  lids  descended 
calmly  and  fixedly  till  they  hid  from  sight  the  upper  edges  of 
the  pupils  !  and  by  this  slight  but  infallible  sign  I  knew  —  but  the 
story  will  tell  what  I  knew.  Napoleon  was  nearly,  but  not  quite 
right,  when  he  said  that  there  was  no  reliance  to  be  placed  on 
peculiarities  of  feature  or  expression. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

IN  August  of  that  same  year,  I  followed  the  world  to  Sarato 
ga.  In  my  first  reconnoitre  of  the  drawing-room  of  Congress 
Hall,  I  caught  the  eye  of  Mr.  McRueit,  and  received  from  him 
a  cordial  salutation.  As  I  put  my  head  right,  upon  its  pivot, 
after  an  easy  nod  to  my  familiar  aversion,  my  eyes  fell  upon  Miss 
Jonthee  Twitt — that  was — for  I  had  seen,  in  the  newspapers  of 
two  months  before,  tha.t  the  resolve  (born  of  the  dusty  slipper 
outside  her  door),  had  been  brought  about,  and  she  was  now  on 
the  irrevocable  side  of  a  honeymoon  sixty  days  old. 

Her  eyelid  was  down  upon  the  pupil — motionless,  concentrated, 
and  vigilant  as  a  couched  panther — and  from  beneath  the  hem 
of  her  dress  curved  out  the  high  arched  instep  of  a  foot  pointed 
with  desperate  tension  to  the  carpet ;  the  little  great  toe  (whose 
reiving  pressure  on  the  soiled  slipper  Mr.  McRueit  had  been 
captivated  by),  now  rigid  with  as  strong  a  purpose  as  spiritual 
homeopathy  could  concentrate  in  so  small  a  tenement.  I  thought 


318  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


I  would  make  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McRueit  the  subject  of  quiet  study 
while  I  remained  at  Saratoga. 

But  I  have  not  mentioned  the  immediate  cause  of  Mrs.  Mc- 
Rueit's  resentment.  Her  bridegroom  was  walking  up  and  down 
the  room  with  a  certain  Mrs.  Wanmaker,  a  widow,  who  was  a 
better  woman  than  she  looked  to  be,  as  I  chanced  to  know,  but 
as  nobody  could  know  without  the  intimate  acquaintance  with 
Mrs.  Wanmaker  upon  which  I  base  this  remark.  With  beauty 
of  the  most  voluptuous  cast,  and  a  passion  for  admiration  which 
induced  her  to  throw  out  every  possible  lure  to  men  any  way 
worth  her  time  as  victims,  Mrs.  Wanmaker's  blood  was  as  "  cold 
as  the  flow  of  Iser,"  and  her  propriety,  in  fact,  wholly  impregna 
ble.  I  had  been  myself  "  tried  on"  by  the  widow  Wanmaker, 
and  twenty  caravan-marches  might  have  been  made  across  the 
Desert  of  Sahara,  while  the  conviction  I  have  just  stated  was 
"  getting  through  my  hair."  It  was  not  wonderful,  therefore, 
that  both  the  bride  and  her  (usually)  most  penetrations  bride 
groom,  had  sailed  over  the  widow's  shallows,  unconscious  of 
soundings.  She  was  a  "  deep"  woman,  too — but  in  the  love 
line. 

I  thought  McRueit  singularly  off  his  gyard,  if  it  were  only  for 
"  appearances."  He  monopolized  the  widow  effectually,  and  she 
thought  it  worth  her  while  to  let  the  world  think  him  (a  bride 
groom  and  a  rising  young  politician),  mad  for  her,  and,  truth  to 
eay,  they  carried  on  the  war  strenuously.  Perfectly  certain  as  I 
was  that  "  the  whirligig  of  time"  would  "  bring  about  the 
revenges"  of  Mrs.  McRueit,  I  began  to  feel  a  meantime  pity  for 
her,  and  had  myself  presented  duly  by  McRueit  the  next  morn 
ing  after  breakfast. 

It  was  a  tepid,  flaccid,  revery-colored  August  morning,  and  the 


THE  POWER  OF  AN  "INJURED  LOOK."  319 


sole  thought  of  the  universe  seemed  to  be  to  sit  down.  The 
devotees  to  gayety  and  mineral  water  dawdled  out  to  the  porti 
coes,  and  some  sat  on  chairs  under  the  trees,  and  the  dandies  lay  on, 
the  grass,  and  the  old  ladies  on  the  steps  and  the  settees,  and  here 
and  there,  a  man  on  the  balustrade,  and,  in  the  large  swing,  vis 
a-vis,  sat  McRueit  and  the  widow  Wanmaker,  chattering  in  an 
undertone  quite  inaudible.  Mrs.  McRueit  sat  on  a  bench,  with 
her  back  against  one  of  the  high-shouldered  pine-trees  in  the 
court-yard,  and  I  had  called  McRueit  out  of  his  swing  to  present 
me.  But  he  returned  immediately  to  the  widow. 

I  thought  it  would  be  alleviative  and  good-natured  to  give  Mrs. 
McRueit  an~  insight  to  the  harmlessness  of  Mrs.  Wanmaker,  and 
I  had  done  so  very  nearly  to  my  satisfaction,  when  I  discovered 
that  the  slighted  wife  did  not  care  sixpence  about  the  fact,  and 
that,  unlike  Hamlet,  she  only  knew  seems.  The  more  I  develop 
ed  the  innocent  object  of  the  widow's  outlay  of  smiles  and  confi 
dentialities,  the  more  Mrs.  McRueit  placed  herself  in  a  posture 
to  be  remarked  by  the  loungers  in  the  court-yard-and  the  dawd 
lers  on  the  portico,  and  the  more  she  deepened  a  certain  look — 
you  must  imagine  it  for  the  present,  dear  reader.  It  would  take 
a  razor's  edge  of  analysis,  and  a  Flemish  paint-pot  and  patience 
to  carve  that  injured  look  into  language,  or  paint  it  truthfully  to 
the  eye  !  Juries  would  hang  husbands,  and  recording  angels 
"  ruthlessly  overcharge,"  upon  the  unsupported  evidence  of  such 
a  look.  She  looked  as  if  her  heart  must  have  suffocated  with 
forbearance  long  before  she  began  to  look  so.  She  looked  as  if 
she  had  forgiven  and  wept,  and  was  ready  to  forgive  and  weep 
again.  She  looked  as  if  she  would  give  her  life  if  she  could 
conceal  "  her  feelings,"  and  as  if  she  was  nerving  soul,  and 
heart,  and  eyelids,  and  lachrymatory  glands — all  to  agony — to 


320  FUN   JOTTINGS. 


prevent  bursting  into  tears  with  her  unutterable  anguish  !  It 
was  the  most  unresisting,  unresentful,  patient,  sweet  miserable- 
ness  !  A  lamb's  willingness  to  "  furnish  forth  another  meal"  of 
chops  and  sweetbread,  was  testy  to  such  meek  endurance  !  She 
was  evidently  a  martyr,  a  victim,  a  crushed  flower,  a  "  poor 
thing !"  But  she  did,  now  and  then — unseen  by  anybody  but 
me — give  a  glance  from  that  truncated  orb  of  a  pupil  of  hers, 
over  the  top  of  her  handkerchief,  that,  if  incarnated,  would  have 
made  a  hole  in  the  hide  of  a  rhinoceros  !  It  was  triumph, 
venom,  implacability — such  as  I  had  never  before  seen  expressed 
in  human  glances. 

There  are  many  persons  with  but  one  idea,  and  that  a  good 
one.  Mrs.  McRueit,  I  presume,  was  incapable  of  appreciating 
my  interest  in  her.  At  any  rate  she  played  the  same  game  with 
me  as  with  other  people,  and  managed  her  affairs  altogether  with 
perfect  unity.  It  was  in  vain  that  I  endeavored  to  hear  from  her 
tongue  what  I  read  in  the  lowering  pupil  of  her  eye.  She  spoke 
of  McRueit  with  evident  reluctance,  but  always  with  discretion — 
never  blaming  him,  nor  leaving  any  opening  that  should  betray 
resentment,  or  turn  the  current  of  sympathy  from  herself.  The 
result  was  immediate.  The  women  in  the  house  began  to  look 
black  upon  McRueit.  The  men  "  sent  him  to  Coventry"  more 
unwillingly,  for  he  was  amusing  and  popular — but  "  to  Coventry" 
he  went !  And  at  last  the  widow  Wanmaker  became  aware  that 
she  was  wasting  her  time  on  a  man  whose  attentions  were  not 
wanted  elsewhere — and  she  (the  unkindest  cut  of  all)  found  rea 
sons  for  looking  another  way  when  he  approached  her.  He  had 
became  aware,  during  this  process,  what  was  "  in  the  wind,"  but 
he  knew  too  much  to  stay  in  the  public  eye  when  it  was  inflamed. 
With  his  brows  lowering,  and  his  face  gloomy  with  feelings  I 


THE  POWER  OF  AN  "INJURED  LOOK."  321 


could  easily  interpret,  he  took  the  early  coach  on  the  third  morn 
ing  after  my  introduction  to  Mrs.  McRueit,  and  departed,  proba 
bly  for  a  discipline  trip,  to  some  place  where  sympathy  with  his 
wife  would  be  less  dangerous. 


CHAPTER  III. 

I  THINK,  that  within  the  next  two  or  three  years,  I  heard 
McRueit's  name  mentioned  several  times,  or  saw  it  in  the  papers, 
connected  with  strong  political  movements.  I  had  no  very  defi 
nite  idea  of  where  he  was  residing,  however.  Business  called 
me  to  a  western  county,  and  on  the  road  I  fell  into  the  company 
of  a  great  political  schemer  and  partisan — one  of  those  joints  (of 
the  feline  political  body),  the  next  remove  from  the  "  cat's 
paw."  Finding  that  I  cared  not  a  straw  for  politics,  and  that  we 
were  going  to  the  same  town,  he  undertook  the  blandishment  of 
an  overflow  of  confidence  upon  me,  probably  with  the  remoto 
possibility  that  he  might  have  occasion  to  use  me.  I  gave  in  to 
it  so  far  as  courteously  to  receive  all  his  secrets,  and  we  arrived 
at  our  destination  .excellent  friends. 

The  town  was  in  a  ferment  with  the  coming  election  of  a  mem 
ber  for  the  legislature,  and  the  hotel  being  very  crowded,  Mr. 
Develin  (my  fellow-traveller)  and  myself  were  put  into  a  double- 
bedded  room.  Busy  with  my  own  affairs,  I  saw  but  little  of  him, 
and  he  seemed  quite  too  much  occupied  for  conversation,  till  the 
third  night  after  our  arrival.  Lying  in  bed  with  the  moonlight 
streaming  into  the  room,  he  began  to  give  me  some  account  of 
the  campaign  preparing  for  around  us,  and  presently  mentioned 
14* 


322  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


the  name  of  McRueit — (the  name,  by  the  way,  that  I  had  seen 
upon  the  placards,  without  caring  particularly  to  inquire  whether 
or  not  it  was  u  mine  ancient"  aversion). 

"  They  are  not  aware,"  said  Mr.  Develin,  after  talking  on  the 
subject  awhile,  "  that  this  petty  election,  is,  in  fact,  the  grain  of 
sand  that  is  to  turn  the  presidential  scale.  If  McRueit  should  be 
elected  (as  I  am  sorry  to  say  there  seems  every  chance  he  will 
be),  Van  Buren's  doom  is  sealed.  I  have  come  a  little  too  late 
here.  I  should  have  had  time  to  know  something  more  of  this 
man  McRueit — " 

"  Perhaps  I  can  give  you  some  idea  of  him,"  interrupted  I, 
"  for  he  has  chanced  to  be  more  in  my  way  than  I  would  have 
bargained  for.  But  what  do  you  wish  to  know  particularly  ?" 
(I  spoke,  as  the  reader  will  see,  in  the  unsuspecting  innocence 
of  my  heart). 

"  Oh — anything — anything  !     Tell  me  all  you  know  of  him  !" 

Mr.  Develin's  vividness  rather  surprised  me,  for  he  raised 
himself  on  his  elbow  in  bed — but  I  went  on  and '  narrated  very 
much  what  I  have  put  down  for  the  reader  in  the  two  preceding 
chapters. 

"  How  do  you  spell  Mrs.  Wanmaker's  name  r"  asked  my  im 
bedded  vis-a-vis,  as  I  stopped  and  turned  over  to  go  to  sleep. 

I  spelt  it  for  him. 

He  jumped  out  of  bed,  dressed  himself  and  left  the  room. 
Will  the  reader  permit  me  to  follow  him,  like  Asmodeus,  giving 
with  Asmodean  brevity  the  knowledge  I  afterward  gained  of  his 
use  of  my  involuntary  revelation  ? 

Mr.  Develin  roused  the  active  member  of  the  Van  Buren  com- 
niittco  from  his  slumber,  and  in  an  hour  had  the  printers  of  their 
party  paper  at  work  upon  a  placard.  A  large  meeting  was  to  be 


THE  POWER  OF  AN  "INJURED  LOOK."  333 


held  the  next  day  in  the  town-hall,  during  which  both  candidates, 
it  was  supposed,  would  address  the  people.  Ladies  were  to  oc 
cupy  the  galleries.  The  hour  came  round.  Mrs.  McRueit's 
carriage  drove  into  the  village  a  few  minutes  before  eleven,  and 
as  she  stopped  at  a  shop  for  a  moment,  a  letter  was  handed  her 
by  a  boy.  She  sat  still  and  read  it.  She  was  alone.  Her  face 
turned  livid  with  paleness  after  its  first  flush,  and  forgetting  her 
errand  at  the  shop,  she  drove  on  to  the  town-hall.  She  took  her 
Beat  in  a  prominent  part  of  the  gallery.  The  preliminaries  were 
gone  through  with,  and  her  husband  rose  to  speak.  He  was  a 
plausible  orator,  an  eloquent  man.  But  there  was  a  sentiment 
circulating  in  the  audience — something  whispered  from  man  to 
man — that  strangely  took  off  the  attention  of  the  audience.  He 
could  not,  as  he  had  never  before  found  difficulty  in  doing,  keep 
their  eyes  upon  his  lips.  Every  one  was  gazing  on  his  wife  I 
And  there  she  sat — with  her  INJURED  LOOK  ! — pale,  sad,  appar 
ently  striving  to  listen  and  conceal  hej-  mental  suffering.  It  was 
as  convincing  to  the  audience  of  the  truth  of  the  insinuation  that 
was  passing  from  mouth  to  mouth — as  convincing  as  would  have 
been  a  revelation  from  Heaven.  McRueit  followed  the  many  up 
turned  eyes  at  last,  and  saw  that  they  were  bent  on  his  wife,  and 
that — once  more — after  years  of  conciliation,  she  wore  THAT 
INJURED  LOOK  !  His  heart  failed  him.  He  evidently  compre 
hended  that  the  spirit  tnat  had  driven  him  from  Saratoga,  years 
before — popular  sympathy  with  women — had  overtaken  him  and 
was  plotting  against  him  once  more.  His  speech  began  to  lose 
its  concentration.  He  talked  wide.  The  increasing  noise  over 
powered  him,  and  he  descended  at  last  from  the  platform  in  the 
midst  of  a  universal  hiss.  The  other  candidate  rose  and  spoke  ; 
and  at  the  close  of  his  speech  the  meeting  broke  up,  and  as  they 


324  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


dispersed,  their  eyes  were  met  at  every  corner  with  a  large  pla 
card,  in  which  "  injured  wife,"  "  unfaithful  husband,"  u  widow 
W — n — k — r,"  were  the  words  in  prominent  capitals.  The 
election  came  on  the  next  day,  and  Mr.  McRueit  being  signally 
defeated,  Mr.  Van  Buren's  election  to  the  Presidency  (if  Mr. 
Develin  knew  anything)  was  made  certain — brought  about  by  a 
woman's  INJURED  LOOK. 

My  business  in  the  county  was  the  purchase  of  land,  and  for  a 
year  or  two  afterward,  I  was  a  great  deal  there.  Feeling  that  I 
had  unintentionally  furnished  a  weapon  to  his  enemies,  I  did  pen 
ance  by  cultivating  McRueit.  I  went  often  to  his  house.  He 
was  at  first  a  good  deal  broken  up  by  the  sudden  check  to  his 
ambition,  but  he  rallied  with  a  change  in  his  character  for  which 
I  was  not  prepared.  He  gave  up  all  antagonism  toward  his  wife. 
He  assumed  a  new  manner  to  her.  She  had  been  skilfully  man 
aged  before — but  he  took  her  now  confidingly  behind  his  shield. 
He  felt  overmastered  by  the  key  she  had  to  popular  sympathy, 
and  he  determined  wisely  to  make  it  turn  in  his  favor.  By  assi 
duity,  by  tenderness,  childlikeness,  he  succeeded  in  completely 
convincing  her  that  he  had  but  one  out-of-doors  wish — that  of 
embellishing  her  existence  by  his  success.  The  effort  on  her  was 
marvellous.  She  recovered  her  health,  gradually  changed  to  a 
joyous  and  earnest  promoter  of  her  husband's  interests,  and  they 
were  soon  a  marked  model  in  the  county  for  conjugal  devotion. 
The  popular  impression  soon  gained  ground  that  Mr.  McRueit 
had  been  shamefully  wronged  by  the  previous  prejudice  against 
his  character  as  a  husband.  The  tide  that  had  already  turned, 
goon  swelled  to  a  flood,  and  Mr.  McRueit  now — but  Mr.  Mc 
Rueit  is  too  powerful  a  person  in  the  present  government  to  fol- 


THE  POWER  OF  AN  "INJURED  LOOK."  325 


low  any  farther.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  he  might  return  to  Mrs. 
Wanmaker  and  his  old  courses  if  he  liked — for  his  wife's 
INJURED  LOOK  is  entirely  fattened  out  of  possibility  by  her  happi 
ness.  She  weighs  two  hundred,  and  could  no  more  look  injured 
than  Sir  John  Falstaff. 


MRS,  FLIMSON. 

FEW  women  had  more  gifts  than  Mrs.  Flimson.  She  was  born 
of  clever  parents,  and  was  lady-like  and  good-looking.  Her  edu 
cation  was  that  of  a  female  Crichton,  careful  and  universal ;  and 
while  she  had  more  than  a  smattering  of  most  languages  and  sci 
ences,  she  was  up  to  any  flight  of  fashion,  and  down  to  every 
secret  of  notable  housewifery.  She  piqued  herself,  indeed,  most 
upon  her  plain  accomplishments  (thinking,  perhaps,  that  her 
more  uncommon  ones  would  speak  for  themselves)  ;  and  it  was  a 
greater  triumph,  to  her  apprehension,  that  she  could  direct  the 
country  butcher  to  the  sweet-bread  in  slaughtering  his  veal,  aud 
show  a  country-girl  how  to  send  it  to  table  with  the  proper  com 
plexion  of  a  riz  de  veau,  than  that  she  could  entertain  any  man 
ner  of  foreigner  in  his  own  language,  and  see  order  in  the  stars 
and  diamonds  in  back-logs.  Like  most  female  prodigies,  whose 
friends  expect  them  to  be  matched  as  well  as  praised,  Mrs.  Flimson 
lost  the  pick  of  the  market,  £nd  married  a  man  very  much  her 
inferior.  The  pis  aller,  Mr.  Flimson,  was  a  person  of  excellent 
family  (after  the  fashion  of  a  hill  of  potatoes — the  best  part  of  it 
under  ground),  and  possessed  of  a  moderate  income.  Near  the 
meridian  sun  of  a  metropolis,  so  small  a  star  would  of  course  be 


MRS.  FLIMSON.  32f 

extinguished  ;  and  as  it  was  necessary  to*  Mrs.  Flimson's  exist 
ence  that  she  should  be  the  cynosure  of  something,  she  induced 
her  husband  to  remove  to  the  sparser  field  of  a  distant  country- 
town,  where,  with  her  diplomatic  abilities,  she  hoped  to  build  him 
him  up  into  a  member  of  Congress.  And  here  shone  forth  the 
genius  of  Mrs.  Flimson.  To  make  herself  perfectly  au  fait  of 
country  habits,  usages,  and  prejudices,  and  opinions,  was  but  the 
work  of  a  month  or  two  of  stealthy  observation.  At  the  end  of 
this  short  period,  she  had  mastered  a  manner  of  rustic  frankness 
(to  be  put  on  at  will)  ;  she  had  learned  the  secret  of  all  rural 
economies  ;  she  had  found  out  what  degree  of  gentility  would 
inspire  respect  without  offending,  or  exciting  envy,  and  she  had 
made  a  near  estimate  of  the  influence,  consequence,  and  worth- 
trouble-ness  of  every  family  within  visiting  distance. 

With  this  ammunition,  Mrs.  Flimson  opened  the  campaign. 
She  joined  all  the  sewing-circles  of  the  village,  refusing  steadily 
the  invidious  honor  of  manager,  pattern-cutter,  and  treasurer  ;  she 
selected  one  or  two  talkative  objects  for  her  charity,  and  was  stu 
diously  secret  in  her  manner  of  conveying  her  benefactions.  She 
talked  with  farmers,  quoting  Mr.  Flimson  for  her  facts.  She  dis 
coursed  with  the  parson,  quoting  Mr.  Flimson  for  her  theology. 
She  was  intelligent  and  witty,  and  distributed  plentiful  scraps  of 
information,  always  quoting  Mr.  Flimson.  She  managed  the  farm 
and  the  household,  and  kept  all  the  accounts — Mr.  Flimson  was 
so  overwhelmed  with  other  business  !  She  talked  politics,  admit 
ting  that  she  was  less  of  a  republican  than  Mr.  Flimson.  She  pro 
duced  excellent  plans  for  charitable  associations,  town  improve 
ments,  and  the  education  of  children — all  the  result  of  Mr.  Flim- 
son's  hours  of  relaxation.  She  was— and  was  only — Mr.  Film- 
son's  humble  vicegerent  and  poor  representative.  And  every 


328  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


thing  would  seem  so  much  better  devised  if  he  could  have  ex 
pressed  it  in  person  ! 

But  Mr.  Flimson  was  never  nominated  for  Congress,  and  Mrs. 
Flimson  was  very  well  understood  from  the  first  by  her  country 
neighbors.  There  was  a  flaw  in  the  high  polish  of  her  education 
— an  error  inseparable  from  too  much  consciousness  of  porcelain 
in  this  crockery  world.  To  raise  themselves  sufficiently  above  the 
common  level,  the  family  of  Mrs.  Flimson  habitually  underrated 
vulgar  human  nature,  and  the  accomplished  daughter,  good  at 
every  thing  else,  never  knew  where  to  find  it.  She  thinks  herself 
in  a  cloud,  floating  far  out  of  the  reach  of  those  around  her,  when 
they  are  reading  her  at  arm's  length  like  a  book.  She  calculates 
her  condescension  for  "  forty  fathom  deep,"  when  the  object  of  it 
sits  beside  her.  She  comes  down  graciously  to  the  people's  ca 
pacity,  and  her  simplicity  is  set  down  for  trap.  And  still  won 
dering  that  Mr.  Flimson  is  allowed  by  his  country  to  remain  in 
obscurity,  and  that  stupid  rustics  will  not  fuse  and  be  moulded  by 
her  well-studied  congenialities,  she  begins  to  turn  her  attention  to 
things  more  on  her  own  level,  and  on  Sundays  looks  like  a  saint 
distressed  to  be  out  of  heaven.  But  for  that  one  thread  of  con 
tempt  woven  into  the  woof  of  her  education,  Mrs.  Flimson  might 
have  shone  as  a  star  in  the  world  where  she  glimmers  like  a 
taper. 


FROM  SARATOGA, 

TO  THE  JULIA   OF  SOME  YEARS  AGO. 
August  2,  1843. 

I  HAVE  not  written  to  you  in  your  boy's  lifetime — that  fine  lad, 
a  shade  taller  than  yourself,  whom  I  sometimes  meet  at  my 
tailor's  and  bootmaker's.  I  am  not  very  sure,  that  after  the  first 
month  (bitter  month)  of  your  marriage,  I .  have  thought  of  you 
for  the  duration  of  a  revery — fit  to  be  so  called.  -I  loved  you — 
lost  you — swore  your  ruin  and  forgot  you — which  is  love's  climax 
when  jilted.  And  I  never  expected  to  think  of  you  again. 

Beside  the  astonishment  at  hearing  from  me  at  all,  you  will  bo 
surprised  at  receiving  a  letter  from  me  at  Saratoga.  Here  where 
the  stars  are,  that  you  swore  by — here,  where  the  springs  and 
colonnades,  the  woodwalks  and  drives,  the  sofas  and  springs,  are 
all  coated  over  with  your  delicious  perjuries,  your  "  protested  " 
protestations,  your  incalculable  bankruptcy  of  sighs,  tears,  car 
esses,  promises  !  Oh  !  Julia — mais,  reliens  toi,  ma  plume  ! 

I  assure  you  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  ever  coming  here 
again  in  the  world — not  the  slightest !  I  had  a  vow  in  heaven 
against  it,  indeed.  "While  I  hated  you — before  I  forgot  you,  that 
is  to  say — I  would  not  have  come  for  your  husband's  million — 
(your  price,  Julia !)  I  had  laid  Saratoga  away  with  a  great  sea). 


330  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


to  be  reopened  in  the  next  star  I  shall  inhabit,  and  used  as  a 
lighthouse  of  warning.  There  was  one  bannister  at  Congress 
Hall,  particularly — across  which  we  parted  nightly — the  next 
object  my  hand  touched  after  losing  the  warm  pressure  of  yours 
— the  place  I  leaned  over  with  a  heart  under  my  waistcoat  which 
would  have  scaled  Olympus  to  be  nearer  to  you,  yet  was  kept 
back  by  that  mahogany  and  your  "  no" — and  I  will  believe  that 
devils  may  become  dolls,  and  ghosts  play  around  us  like  the 
smoke  of  a  cigar,  since  over  that  bannister  I  have  thrown  my  leg 
and  sat  thinking  of  the  past  without  phrensy  or  emotion  !  And 
none  have  a  better  right  than  we  to  laugh  now  at  love's  passion 
ate  eternities  !  For  we  were  lovers,  Julia — I,  as  I  know,  and 
you,  as  I  believe — and  in  that  entry,  when  we  parted  to  dream, 
write,  contrive  for  the  blissful  morrow — anything  but  sleep  and 
forget — in  that  entry  and  over  that  bannister  were  said  words  of 
tenderness  and  devotion,  from  as  deep  soundings  of  two  hearts  as 
ever  plummet  of  this  world  could  by  possibility  fathom.  You 
did  love  me — monster  of  untruth  and  forgctfulness  as  you  have 
since  been  bought  for — you  did  love  me  !  And  that  you  can  ride 
in  your  husband's  carriage  and  grow  fat,  and  that  I  can  come 
here  and  make  a  mock  of  it,  are  two  comments  on  love  worthy 
of  the  common-place-book  of  Mephistophiles.  Fie  on  us  ! 

I  came  to  Saratoga  as  I  would  look  at  a  coat  that  I  had  worn 
twenty  years  before — with  a  sort  of  vacant  curiosity  to  see  the 
shell  in  which  I  had  once  figured.  A  friend  said,  "  Join  me  at 
Saratoga !"  and  it  sounded  like,  "  Come  and  see  where  Julia  was 
adorable.''  I  came  in  a  rail-car,  under  a  hot  sun,  and  wanted  my 
dinner,  and  wished  myself  where  Julia,  indeed,  sat  fat  in  her 
fauteuil — wished  it,  for  the  good  wine  in  the  cellar  and  the 
French  cook  in  the  kitchen.  And  I  did  not  go  down  to  "  Con- 


EPHEMERA.  331 


gress  Hall,"  the  old  palais  d'amour — but  in  the  modern  and  com 
fortable  parlor  of  the  "  United  States,"  sat  down  by  a  pretty 
woman  of  these  days,  and  chatted  about  the  water-lily  in  her 
bosom  and  the  boy  she  had  up  stairs — coldly  and  every-day-ishly. 
I  had  been  there  six  hours,  and  you  had  not  entered  my  thoughts, 
Please  to  believe  that,  Julia  ! 

But  in  the  evening  there  was  a  ball  at  Congress  Hall.  And 
though  the  old  house  is  unfashionable  now,  and  the  lies  of  love 
are  elsewhere  told  and  listened  to,  there  was  a  movement  among 
the  belles  in  its  favor,  and  I  appended  myself  to  a  lady's  arm 
and  went  boldly.  I  say  boldly,  for  it  required  an  effort.  The 
twilight  had  fallen,  and  with  it  had  come  a  memory  or  two  of  the 
Springs  in  our  time.  I  had  seated  myself  against  a  pillar  of  the 
colonnade  of  the  "  United  States,"  and  looked  down  toward  Con 
gress  Hall — and  you  were  under  the  old  vine-clad  portico,  as  I 
should  have  seen  you  from  the  same  spot,  and  with  the  same  eye 
of  fancy,  sundry  years  ago.  So  it  was  not  quite  like  a  passion 
less  antiquary  that  I  set  foot  again  on  that  old-time  colonnade, 
and,  to  say  truth,  as  the  band  struck  up  a  waltz,  I  might  have 
had  in  my  lip  a  momentary  quiver,  and  some  dimness  in  my 
world-weary  eye.  But  it  passed  away. 

The  ball  was  comme  ca,  and  I  found  sweet  women  (as  where 
are  they  not — given,  candles  and  music  ?)  and  aired  my  homage 
as  an  old  stager  may,  I  danced  without  thinking  of  you  uncom 
fortably,  though  the  ten  years'  washing  of  that  white  floor  has  not 
quite  washed  out  the  memory  of  your'  Arab  instep  with  its  em 
bracing  and  envied  sandal,  gliding  and  bounding,  oh  how  airily ! 
For  you  had  feet,  absolute  in  their  perfection,  dear  Julia  !— had 
you  not  ? 

But  I  went  out  for  fresh  air  on  the  colonnade,  in  an  evil  and 

I 


332  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


forgetful  moment.  I  strolled  alone  toward  the  spring.  The  lamp 
burned  dim,  as  it  used  to  burn,  tended  by  Cupid's  minions.  And 
on  the  end  of  the  portico,  by  the  last  window  of  the  music-room, 
under  that  overhanging  ivy,  with  stars  in  sight  that  I  would  have 
sworn  to  for  the  very  same — sat  a  lady  in  a  dress  like  yours  as  I 
saw  you  last,  and  black  eyes,  like  jet  lamps  framed  in  velvet, 
turning  indolently  toward  me.  I  held  by  the  railing,  for  I  am 
superstitious,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  only  to  ask  why  you 
were  there — for,  ghostly  or  bodily,  there  I  saw  you  !  Back  came 
your  beauty  on  my  memory  with  yesterday's  freshness  of  recollec 
tion.  Back  came  into  my  heart  the  Julia  of  my  long-accursed 
adoration !  I  saw  your  confiding  and  bewildering  smile,  your 
fine-cut  teeth  of  pearl,  your  over-bent  brow  and  arch  look  from 
under,  your  lily -shoulders,  your  dimpled  hands.  You  were 
there,  if  my  senses  were  sufficient  evidence,  if  presence  be  any 
thing  without  touch — bodily  there  ! 

Of  course  it  was  somebody  else.  I  went  in  and  took  a  julep. 
But  I  write  to  tell  you  that  for  a  minute — a  minute  of  enormous 
capacity — I  have  loved  you  once  more.  For  one  minute,  while 
you  probably  were  buried  deep  in  your  frilled  pillow — (snoring, 
perhaps— who  knows  ?) — for  one  minute,  fleeting  and  blissful, 
you  have  been  loved  again — with  heart,  brain,  blood,  all  on  fire 
with  truth,  tenderness,  and  passionate  adoration — by  a  man  who 
could  have  bought  you  (you  know  I  could  !)  for  half  the  money 
you  sold  for !  And  I  thought  you  would  like  to  know  this, 
Julia  !  And  now,  hating  you  as  before,  in  your  fleshy  forgetful- 
ness,  Yours  not  at  all. 


EPHEMERA.  333 


TO  MISS  VIOLET  MABY,  AT  SARATOGA. 

ASTOE  HOUSE,  August,  1843. 

START  fair,  my  sweet  Violet '  This  letter  will  lie  on  your 
table  when  you  arrive  at  Saratoga,  and  it  is  intended  to  prepare 
you  for  that  critical  campaign.  You  must  know  the  ammunition 
with  which  you  go  into  the  field.  I  have  seen  service,  as  you 
know,  and  from  iny  retirement  (on  half-pay),  can  both  devise 
strategy  and  reconnoitre  the  enemy's  weakness,  with  discretion. 
Set  your  glass  before  you  on  the  table,  and  let  us  hold  a  frank 
council  of  war. 

You  never  were  called  beautiful,  as  you  know ;  and  at  home 
you  have  not  been  a  belle — but  that  is  no  impediment.  You  are 
to  be  beautiful,  now,  or  at  least  to  produce  the  result  of  beauty, 
which  is  the  same  thing ;  and  of  course  you  are  to  be  a  belle — 
the  belle,  if  I  mistake  not,  of  the  season.  Look  in  your  mirror, 
for  a  mpment,  and  refresh  your  memory  with  the  wherewithal. 

You  observe  that  your  mouth  has  blunt  corners — which,  pro 
perly  managed,  is  a  most  effective  feature.  Your  complexion 
is  rather  darkly  pale,  your  forehead  is  a  shade  lower-  than 
thought  desirable,  your  lips  are  full,  sweet,  and  indolent,  and 
your  eyes  are  not  remarkable  unless  when  well  handled.  The 
lids  have  a  beauty,  however,  which  a  sculptor  would  understand, 
and  the  duskiness  around  them  may  intensify,  exceedingly,  one 
particular  expression.  Your  figure  is  admirably  perfect,  but  in 
this  country,  and  particularly  among  the  men  you  are  to  control, 
this  large  portion  of  female  beauty  is  neither  studied  nor  valued. 


334  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


Your  hair  is  too  profuse  to  be  dressed  quite  fashionably,  but  it  is 
a  beauty  not  to  be  lost,  so  it  must  be  coiffed  a  Vabandon — a  very 
taking  style  to'a  man  once  brought  to  the  point  of  studying  you. 

There  are  two  phases  in  your  character,  Violet — earnestness 
and  repose.  The  latter  shows  your  features  to  the  most  advan 
tage,  besides  being  a  most  captivating  quality  in  itself.  I  would 
use  it  altogether  for  the  first  week.  Gayety  will  never  do.  A 
laugh  on  a  face  like  yours  is  fatal.  It  spreads  into  unmeaning 
platitude  the  little  wells  in  the  corners  of  your  mouth  (the  blunt 
corners  I  spoke  of  above),  and  it  makes  your  eyes  smaller — 
•which  they  can  not  well  bear.  Your  teeth  are  minion  and  white, 
it  is  true,  but  they  show  charmingly  when  you  speak,  and  are  ex 
cellent  as  reserved  artillery,  to  follow  an  introduction.  Save  your 
mirth  till  the  game  is  won,  my  dear  Violet ! 

Of  course  you  will  not  appear  at  breakfast  the  first  morning 
after  your  arrival.  The  mental  atmosphere  of  the  unaired  hours 
is  too  cold  and  questioning  for  a  first  appearance.  So  is  the 
hungry  half-hour  till  the  soup  is  removed.  Go  down  late  to  din 
ner.  Till  after  the  first  glass  of  wine,  the  heart  of  man  is  a 
shut  book — opened  then  for  entries,  and  accessible  till  shut  again 
by  sleep.  You  need  no  table-lesson.  You  eat  elegantly,  and, 
with  that  swan's  neck  wrist,  curving  and  ivory-fair,  your  every 
movement  is  ammunition  well-bestowed.  But  there  may,  or  may 
not,  be  a  victim  on  the  other  side  of  the  table. 

After  dinner  is  the  champ  de  bataille!  The  men  are  gallant, 
the  ladies  melted  out,  impulses  a-top,  the  key  of  conversation  so 
prano,  and  everybody  gay  and  trivial.  So  be  not  you.  It  is  not 
your  style.  Seat  yourself  where  you  will  have  a  little  space  for 
a  foreground,  lean  your  light  elbow  on  your  left  wrist,  and  sup 
port  your  cheek  languidly  in  the  hollow  of  your  gloved  thumb 


EPHEMERA.  335 


and  forefinger.  Excuse  the  particularity,  but  try  the  attitude  as 
you  sit  now.  Pretty — is  it  not  ? 

.  Look  only  out  of  the.  tops  of  your  eyes  !  If  women's  glances 
were  really  the  palpable  shafts  the  poets  paint  them,  the  effective 
ones  would  cut  through  the  eyebrows.  Stupid  ones  slide  over  the 
under  lid.  Try  this  !  How  earnest  the  glance  with  the  head 
bent  downward  ! — how  silly  the  eyes  with  the  chin  salient !  And 
move  your  eye  indolently,  my  charming  Violet !  It  traverses  the 
frippery  gayety-woof  of  the  hour  with  a  pretty  thread  of  contrast 
that  looks  like  superiority.  Men  have  a  natural  contempt  for 
themselves  when  in  high  spirits,  and  repose  comes  over  them  like 
a  star  left  in  heaven  after  the  turn  of  a  rocket. 

Nothing  is  prettier  in  woman  than  a  leaning  head  !  Bow  with 
out  removing  the  supporting  hand  from  your  cheek  when  a  man 
is  introduced  to  you ;  smile  tranquilly,  and  look  steadfastly  in 
his  eyes  and  hear  what  he  has  to  say.  Lucky  for  you — it  is  his 
devoir  to  commence  conversation  !  And  in  whatever  tone  he 
speaks,  pitch  your  reply  a  note  lower  !  Unutterably  sweet  is  the 
contralto  tone  of  woman,  and  the  voices  of  two  persons,  convers 
ing,  are  like  the  plummets  of  their  hearts — the  deeper  from  the 
deeper — so  felt,  and  so  yielded.  If  you  think  it  worth  your 
while  to  harmonize  with  his  tone  afterward,  either  in  argument  or 
tenderness,  the  compliment  is  only  less  subtle  than  overpowering. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  promenading  at  Saratoga,  and  natural 
instinct  will  teach  you  most  of  its  overcomingness  ;  but  I  will 
venture  a  suggestion  or  two.  If  you  are  bent  on  damage  to  your 
man,  lay  your  wrist  forward  to  Ms,  and  let  your  hand  drop  over 
it,  when  you  take  his  arm.  No  mortal  eye  would  think  it  partic 
ular,  nor  would  he — but  there  is  a  kind  of  unconscious  affection- 
ateness  about  it  which  is  electric.  Of  course  you  would  not 


336  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


resort  to  manifest  pressure,  or  leaning  heavily,  except  you  were 
carrying  on  the  war  a  Foutrance.  Walk  with  your  head  a  little 
drooped.  If  you  wish  to  walk  more  slowly,  tell  him  so,  but  don't 
hang  lack.  It  is  enchanting  to  have  a  woman  "  head  you  off,"  as 
the  sailors  say,  as  if  she  were  trying  to  wind  around  you — and  it 
has  the  charm,  too,  of  not  looking  particular  ! 

As  to  conversation,  the  trick  is  born  with  woman.  If  her  per 
son  is  admired  to  begin  with,  this  is  the  least  of  her  troubles. 
But  though  you  are  sweet  subjects,  and  men  like  to  hear  you  talk 
about  yourselves,  there  is  a  sweeter  subject,  which  they  like  bet 
ter  than  you — themselves.  And  lean  away  from  merriment,  Vi 
olet!  No  man  ever  began  to  love,  or  made  any  progress  in  lov 
ing,  while  a  woman  wa's  laughing.  Thfcre  is  a  confidingness  in 
subdued  tones  and  sad  topics  which  sinks  through  the  upper-crust 
of  a  man  like  a  stone  through  the  thin  ice  of  a  well.  And  if  he  is 
a  man  of  natural  sentiment  or  feeling,  though  a  worldling  him 
self,  the  less  worldliness  in  you,  the  better.  Piety,  in  those  who 
are  to  belong  to  us,  is  a  spell  that,  in  any  but  mythological  days, 
would  have  superseded  the  sirens. 

I  believe  that  is  all,  Violet.  At  least  it  is  all  I  need  harp  upon, 
to  you.  Dress,  you  understand  to  a  miracle.  I  see,  by  the  way, 
that  they  are  wearing  the  hair  now,  like  the  chains  on  the  shoul 
der  of  a  hussar — three  or  four  heavy  curls  swung  from  the  tem 
ples  to  the  back-knot.  And  that  will  be  pretty  for  you,  as  your 
jaw  is  not  Napoleonesque,  and  looks  better  for  partial  hiding. 
Ruin  your  father,  if  necessary,  in  gloves  and  shoes.  Primroses 
should  not  be  fresher.  And  whatever  scarfs  are  made  for,  wear 
nothing  to  break  the  curves  from  ear-tip  to  shoulder — the  sculp 
ture  lines  of  beauty  in  woman.  Keep  calm.  Blood  out  of  place 
is  abominable.  And  last,  not  least,  for  Heaven's  sake  doiHt  fall 


EPHEMERA.  337 


in  love  !  If  you  do,  my  precepts  go  for  nothing  and  your  belle- 
ship  is  forgotten  by  all  but  "  the  remaidar  biscuit  " 

Your  affectionate  uncle,  CINNA  BEVERLEY. 

The  above  curious  letter  was  left  in  the  dressing-table  drawer 

of  No. ,  United  States  Hotel.     It  was  not  generally  known 

that  the  young  lady,  who  had  occupied  the  room  before  a  certain 
respectable  spinster  (who  handed  us  the  letter,  taking  the  respon 
sibility  of  its  publication  as  a  warning),  eloped  after  the  third 
day  of  her  belleship — as  was  to  be  expected.  The  result  of  such 
pestilent  advice  is  its  own  proper  moral. 


The  respectable  and  zealous  spinster  who  sent  us  for  publica 
tion,  as  a  salutary  warning,  the  very  worldly  and  trappy  epistle, 
addressed  to  Miss  Violet  Maby,  at  Saratoga,  and  published  on  a 
previous  page,  has  laid  her  fingers  on  another  specimen  of  the 
same  gentleman's  correspondence,  which  we  give,  without  com 
ment  or  correction,  as  follows  : 

ASTOR  HOUSE,  August  10,  1843. 

MY  DEAR  WIDOW  :  For  the  wear  and  tear  of  your  bright  eyes 
in  writing  me  a  letter  you  are  duly  credited.  That  for  a  real 
half-hour,  as  long  as  any  ordinary  half-hour,  such  well-contrived 
illuminations  should  have  concentrated  their  mortal  using  on  me 
only,  is  equal,  I  am  well  aware,  to  a  private  audience  of  any  two 
15 


838  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


stars  in  the  firmament — eyelashes  and  petticoats  (if  not  thrown 
in)  turning  the  comparison  a  little  in  your  favor.  Thanks — of 
course — piled  high  as  the  porphyry  pyramid  of  Papantla ! 
•  And  you  want  "  a  pattern  for  a  chemisette."  Let  me  tell  you, 
my  dear  widow,  you  have  had  a  narrow  escape.  Had  you 
unguardedly  written  to  your  milliner  for  an  article  so  obsolete — 
but  I'll  not  harrow  up  your  feelings.  Suffice  it,  that  that  once- 
pi  •ivil"<r<.-d  article  has  passed  over,  with  decayed  empires,  to  his 
tory—an  aristocracy  of  muslin  too  intoxicated  to  last.  "  Fiat .'" 

The  truth  is  shams  are  tottering.  The  linen  cuff  which  was  a 
shallow  representation  of  the  edge  of  a  linen  sleeve,  and  the  linen 
collar  or  embroidered  chemisette,  which  as  faintly  imagined  forth 
the  spotless  upper  portion  of  the  same  investiture,  are  now  bona 
fide  continuations  of  a  garment,  '*  though  lost  to  sight  to  memo 
ry  dear  !"  The  plait  on  the  throat  and  wrist  is  scrupulously  of 
the  same  fineness,  and  simply  emerges  from  the  neck  and  sleeve 
of  the  dress  without  turning  over. 

The  hem  of  the  skirt  is  beyond  my  province  of  observation, 
but  as  the  plaited  edge  would  be  pretty  (spread  over  the  instep 
when  sitting),  the  unity  is  probably  preserved. 

Apropos  of  instep — the  new  discovery  of  a  steel  spring  in  the 
shoe  to  arch  the  hollow  of  the  foot,  has  directed  attention  to  the 
curves  of  those  bewitching  locomotives,  and  keels  are  coming  into 
fashion.  This  somewhat  improves  the  shapeliness  of  the  pastern, 
lifts  the  sex  a  half  inch  nearer  heaven — more  out  of  reach  than 
ever,  of  course.  Adieu  in  time — should  you  lose  sight  of  me  ! 

And  now — (for  I  believe  you  may  trust  "  The  Lady's  Book" 
for  the  remainder  of  the  chronicle  of  fashion) — how  comes  on, 
oh,  charming  widow,  the  little  property  I  have  in  your  empire  of 
alabaster  ?  Shall  1  recall  the  title-deed  to  your  recollection  t 


EPHEMERA.  339 


Did  you  not,  on  a  summer's  night,  having  the  full  possession  of 
your  senses,  lay  a  rose-leaf  wetted  with  dew  on  your  left  temple  ? 
Did  you  not,  without  mental  reservation,  scratch  it  round  with  a 
thorn-of  the  same  rose,  and  then  and  there  convey  to  me  the  ter 
ritory  so  bounded,  to  have  and  to  hold  for  my  natural  life,  to  be 
guarded,  at  your  peril,  from  trespass  or  damage  ?  Did  you  not, 
at  the  same  place  and  time,  with  blood  taken  from  your  pricked 
finger,  write  me  out,  to  this  effect,  a  rosy  conveyance,  of  which, 
if  needful,  I  can  send  you,  in  red  ink,  a  paler  copy  ?  Of  course 
I  do  not  ask  for  information.  You  know  you  did.  And  you 
know  you  had  for  it  a  consideration — of  such  immortality  as  was 
iu  my  power  to  bestow  : — 

"  Where  press  this  hour  those  fairy  feet  ?"  &c. 

You  married — and  with  so  prying  a  neighbor  as  your  remain 
der's  husband,  I  did  not  very  frequently  visit  my  little  property. 
You  had  the  stewardship  over  it,  and  I  presume  that  you  respect 
ed,  and  made  others  respect,  the  rights  of  the  proprietor.  I 
never  heard  that  your  husb-irvl  was  seen  invading  the  premises. 
I  have  every  reason  to  believu  that  he  was  uniformly  directed  to 
plant  his  tulips  elsewhere  than  in  my  small  garden.  It  was  tome 
a  slumbering  investment — and  the  interest,  I  must  be  permitted 
to  advise  you,  has  accumulated  upon  it ! 

And  now  that  my  prying  neighbor  is  dead,  and  the  property  in 
the  opposite  temple  and  the  remainder  of  the  demesne,  has 
reverted  to  the  original  proprietor,  I  may  be  permitted  to  propose 
myself  as  an  occupant  of  my  own  territory,  pro  tern.,  with  liberty 
to  pluck  fruit  from  the  opposite  garden  as  long  as  it  remains  un- 
tenanted.  Take  care  how  you  warn  me  off.  That  peach  upon 
your  cheek  would  make  a  thief  of  a  better  man. 


340  FUN   JOTTINGS. 


You  disdain  news,  of  course.  China  is  taken  by  the  English, 
and  the  Down-Town-Bard  has  recovered  his  appetite  for  cham 
pagne,  and  writes  regularly  for  the  New  Mirror.  The  Queen's 
Guards  have  done  coming  over ;  the  town  dull ;  and  bonnets  (I 
forgot  to  mention)  are  now  worn  precipitated  over  the  nose  at  an 
angle  of  forty-five  degrees. 

Adieu,  my  dear  widow.  Command  me  till  you  lose  your 
beauty.  Yours  at  present, 

CINNA  BEVERLEV. 


CINNA    BEVERLEr,    ESQ.,    TO     ALEXIS     VON    PflUHL. 

ASTOR  HOUSE,  Sept.  1,  1843. 

Mv  DEAR  NEPH-LING  :  I  congratulate  you  on  the  attainment 
of  your  degree  as  "  Master  of  Arts."  In  other  words,  I  wish 
the  sin  of  the  Faculty  well  repented  of,  in  having  endorsed  upon 
parchment  such  a  barefaced  fabrication.  Put  the  document  in 
your  pocket,  and  come  away  !  There  will  be  no  occasion  to  air 
it  before  doomsday.  proBably,  and  fortunately  for  you,  it  will  then 
revert  to  the  Faculty.  Qaiescat  adhuc — as  I  used  to  say  of  my 
tailor's  bills  till  they  came  through  a  lawyer. 

And  now,  what  is  to  become  of  you  ?  I  do  not  mean  as  to 
what  your  grandmother  calls  your  "temporal  welfare."  You 
were  born  to  gold-dust  like  a  butterfly's  wing.  Ten  thousand  a 
year  will  ooze  into  your  palni  like  insensible  perspiration — (priii- 


EPHEMERA.  34  J 


cipally  from  investments  in  the  "  Life  and  Trust").  But  your 
style,  my  dear  boy — your  idiosyncrasy  of  broadcloth  and  beaver, 
satin  and  patent-leather — your  outer  type — your  atmosphere — 
your  cut !  Oh,  Alexis  ! 

But  let  us  look  this  momentous  matter  coolly  in  the  face. 

America  has  now  arrived  at  that  era  of  civilized  aggrandize 
ment  when  it  is  worth  a  gentleman's  while  to  tie  his  cravat  for 
the  national  meridian.  We  can  afford  to  wish  St.  James  street 
"  bdh  voyage"  in  its  decline  from  empire.  We  dress  better  than 
Great  Britain.  Ilium  fuit.  The  last  appeal  of  the  universe,  a3 
to  male  toggery,  lies  in  the  approval  of  forty  eyes  lucent  beneath 
twenty  bonnets  in  Broadway.  In  the  decision  of  twenty  belles  or 
thereabout,  native  in  New  York,  resides,  at  this  present  crisis, 
the  eidolon  of  the  beau  supreme.  Homage  a  la  mode  Manhattan- 
esque  ! 

But,  to  the  sanctum  of  fashion  there  is  no  thoroughfare. 
Three  persons,  arriving  at  it  by  the  same  road,  send  it  flying  like 
"  Loretto's  chapel  through  the  air."  Every  man  his  own  guide 
thither,  and  his  path  trackless  as  a  bird's  alley  to  his  nest !  I 
can  but  give  you  some  loose  data  for  guidance,  and  pray  that 
"  by  an  instinct  you  have''  you  may  take  a  "  bee-line"  of  your 
own. 

Of  course  you  know  that  during  the  imitative  era  just  past^ 
there  have  been  two  styles  of  men's  dress — the  Londonish  and 
the  Parisian — pretty  equally  popular,  I  should  say.  The  London 
man  dresses  loose  above,  the  Paris  man  loose  below — tight  hips 
and  baggy  coat  in  St.  James  street — baggy  trousers  and  pinched 
coat  on  the  Boulevard.  The  Englishman  puts  on  his  cravat  with 
summary  energy  and  a  short  tie — the  Frenchman  rejoices  in  a 
voluptuous  waterfall  of  satin  ;  and  each,  more  particularly  in  this 


342  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


matter  of  neckcloth,  abhors  the  other.  Join  Bull  shows  his 
shirt-collar  till  death — Monsieur  sinks  it  with  the  same  pertinac 
ity.  English  extravagance,  fine  linen — French  extravagance, 
primrose  kids. 

Something  is  due,  of  course,  to  the  settled  principles  of  art. 
By  the  laws  of  sculpture,  the  Frenchman  is  wrong — the  beauty 
of  the  male  figure  consisting  in  the  breadth  of  the  shoulders  and 
the  narrowness  of  the  hips ;  and  this  formation  shows  blood  and 
breeding,  moreover,  as  to  have  small  hips,  a  man's  progenitors 
must  not  have  carried  burdens.  So — for  me — trousers  snug  to 
the  barrel,  and  coat  scant  of  skirt,  but  prodigal  above.  Decide 
for  yourself,  notwithstanding.  There  is  a  certain  je  ne  sgais  quoi 
in  bagginess  of  continuation — specially  on  a  tall  man.  It  only 
don't  suit  my  style  ! 

And,  as.  to  cravat,  I  have  the  same  weak  leaning  toward  Bond 
street.  The  throat  looks  poulticed  in  those  heavy  voluuiinous- 
nesses.  Black  diminishes  the  apparent  size,  too,  and  the  more 
Bhirt-bosom  visible,  the  broader  the  apparent  chest.  It  depends 
on  the  stuff,  somewhat.  Very  rich  billows  of  flowered  satin  look 
ruinous — and  that  the  ladies  love.  But  in  every  other  particu 
lar,  if  you  will  wear  these  eclipsers  of  linen,  you  must  be  as  lav- 
endered  as  a  lily  at  dawn — compensatory,  as  it  were  !  And  if 
you  show  your  collar,  for  Heaven's  sake  let  it  follow  the  curve  of 
your  jawbone,  and  not  run  athwart  it  like  a  rocket  aimed  at  the 
corner  of  your  eyebrow  !  I  am  sensitive  as  to  this  last  hint. 
The  reform  was  my  own. 

One  caution — never  be  persuaded  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
a  fashion  of  hat !  Belk-ve  me,  the  thing  is  impossible  !  Employ 
an  artist.  George  Flagg  has  a  good  eye  for  a  gentleman's 
belongings,  and  he'll  make  a  drawing  of  you  with  reference  to  a 


EPHEMERA.  343 

hat..  No  hat  is  endurable  that  will  not  look  well  in  a  picture. 
Ponder  the  briui.  Study  how  the  front  curve  cuts  the  liae  of  the 
eyebrow.  Regulate  it  by  the  expression  of  face  common  to  you 
when  dawdling.  See  if  you  require  lengthening  or  crowding 
down — physiognomically,  I  mean.  Low  crowns  are  monstrous 
vindictive.^"  Bell  crowns  are  dressy — white  hats  rowdy.  And, 
once  fixed  in  your  taste  by  artistical  principles,  be  pretty  constant 
through  life  to  that  hat.  Have  it  reproduced  (rigidly,  without 
consultation  with  your  hatter),  and  give  it  a  shower-bath  before 
wearing.  Unmitigated  new  hat  is  truly  frightful.  Orlando  Fish 
takes  your  idea  cleverly,  touching  a  tile  of  your  own. 

As  to  the  Castaly  of  coats,  I  am  driven  to  believe  that  the 
true  fount  is  at  Philadelphia.  One  marvellous  coat  after  another 
arrived  at  Saratoga  while  I  was  there,  and  to  my  astonished  re 
search  as  to  their  origin,  and  there  was  but  one  reply — "  Carpen 
ter."  What  may  be  the  address  of  this  Carpenter  of  coats,  I 
know  not  yet.  But  I  shall  know,  and  soon — for  he  builds  to  a 
miracle.  Trousers,  as  you  know,  are  sent  home  in  the  rough, 
and  adapted  by  perseverance.  They  are  a  complex  mystery,  oa 
the  whole.  Pew  makers  know"  more  than  a  part  in  the  science 
of  cutting  them,  and  you  must  supply  the  rest  by  clear  expound 
ing  and  pertinacious  experiment.  The  trade  is  trying,  and  should 
be  expiative  of  crime  in  the  "sufferer." 

There  is  but  one  simple  idea  in  boots — patent-leather  and 
straight  on  the  inside.  But,  by-the-way,  to  jump  abruptly  to  the 
other  extremity,  how  do  you  wear  your  hair.  For  Cupid's  and 
the  Grace's  sake,  don't  be  English  in  that !  Short  hair  on  a 
young  man  looks  to  me  madhousey.  Ugh !  Straight  or  curly, 
leave  it  long  enough  to  make  a  bootlace  for  a  lady !  And  see 
that  it  looks  threadable  by  slight  fingers — for  if  you  should 


344  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


chance  to  be  beloved,  there  will  be  fingers  unemployed  but  for 
that  little  endearment.  So  at  least  I  conjecture — bald  myself, 
and  of  course,  not  experienced  authority. 

But,  whatever  you  decide,  don't  step  into  the  street  rashly  ! 
Keep  yourself  "  on  private  view"  for  a  few  days  after  you  are 
made  up,  and  call  in  discreet  judges  for  the  benefit  of  criticism 
— an  artist  or  two  among  them  for  the  general  effects.  First  im 
pressions  are  irrevocable. 

Adieu,  my  boy  !  Caution  ! — and  ponder  on  Bakac's  dictum  : 
"  Les  femmes  aiment  les  fats,  parceque  les  fats  sont  les  seuls  hom 
ines  qui  eussent  soin  d'euz-mtmes." 

Your  affectionate  uncle, 

CINNA  BEVERLEY. 

P.  S.  A  short  cane — say  as  long  as  your  arm — is  rather  know 
ing,  now.  Nobody  carries  a  long  stick,  except  to  poke  at  snakes 
in  the  country. 


NEXT  to  eating,  drinking,  loving,  and  money-making,  the 
greatest  desire  of  human  beings  seems  to  be  to  discover  the  lin 
ing  of  each  other's  brains  ;  and  the  great  difference  between 
authors  and  other  people  seems  mainly  to  consist  in  the  faculty 
of  turning  out  this  lining  to  the  view.  But  in  this  same  lining 
there  are  many  plaits,  wrinkles,  and  corners,  which  even  authors 
scarce  think  it  worth  their  while  to  expand,  but  which,  if  acci 
dentally  developed,  create  an  interest,  either  by  their  correspon 
dence  with  other  people's  wrinkles,  or  by  their  intrinsic  peculi 
arity. 


EPHEMERA.  345 


Let  us  see  if  we  can  give  a  sketchy  idea  of  the  rise  and  pro 
gress  of  literary  celebrity  in  London  ;  or,  in  other  words,  the 
climbing  into  society,  and  obtaining  of  notice  by  men  who  have  a 
calling  to  literature.  Sterne's  method  of  generalizing,  by  taking 
a  single  instance,  is  a  very  good  one,  and  we  will  touch  here  and 
there  upon  the  history  of  an  individual  whom  we  know,  and  who, 
after  achieving  several  rounds  of  the  ladder  of  society,  is  still,  we 
believe,  slowly  making  his  way  upward — or  downward.  Let  us 
call  him  Snooks,  if  you  pleasey  for  we  cannot  give  his  real  name, 
and  still  speak  as  freely  as  we  wish  to  do  of  his  difficulties  in 
mounting.  Snooks  was  a  Manchester  boy  of  good  birth,  brought 
up  to  business — his  position  at  home  about  equal  to  that  of  a 
merchant's  son  in  New  York.  He  began  writing  verses  for  the 
country  papers,  and  at  last  succeeded  in  getting  an  article  into 
the  London  New  Monthly,  and  with  this  encouragement  came  up 
to  town  to  follow  literature  for  a  livelihood.  With  a  moderate 
stipend  from  his  father,  he  lived  a  very  quiet  life  for  a  couple  of 
years,  finding  it  rather  difficult  to  give  away  his  productions,  and 
quite  impossible  to  sell  them.  There  was  no  opening  at  the  same 
time  through  which  he  could  even  make  an  attempt  to  get  a  foot 
ing  in  desirable  society.  In  the  third  year  he  became  proof-reader 
to  one  of  the  publishers,  and  being  called  upon  to  write  anticipa 
tory  puffs  of  works  he  had  examined  in  manuscript,  he  came 
under  the  notice  of  the  proprietor  of  one  of  the  weeklies,  and  by 
a  lucky  chance  was  soon  after  employed  as  sub-editor.  This  was 
his  first  available  foothold.  It  was  his  business,  of  course,  to 
review  new  books,  and,  as  a  "  teller"  in  the  bank  of  fame,  he  was 
a  personage  of  some  delegated  importance.  His  first  agreeable 
surprise  was  the  receipt  of  a  parcel  in  scented  paper,  containing 
the  virgin  effusions  of  a  right  honorable  lady,  who,  in  a  little 
15* 


346  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


note,  with  her  compliments  to  Mr.  Snooks  (for  she  had  inquired 
the  name  of  her  probable  critic  through  a  literary  friend),  beirged 
a  notice  of  her  little  book,  and  a  call  from  Mr.  Snooks  when  ho 
should  have  committed  his  criticisms  to  paper.  Snooks  was  a 
man  of  very  indifferent  personables,  his  hair  of  an  unmitigated 
red,  and  his  voice  of  a  very  hair-splitting  treble  ;  but  he  had  a 
violent  taste  for  dress,  and  a  born  passion  for  countesses  ;  and  he 
wrote  most  unexceptionable  poetry,  that  would  pass  for  anybody's 
in  the  world,  it  was  so  utterly  free  from  any  peculiarity.  This 
last  quality  made  him  an  excellent  verse-tinker,  and  he  was  the 
man  of  all  others  best  suited  to  solder  over  the  cracks  and  chasms 
of  right  honorable  poetry.  He  wrote  a  most  commendatory  crit 
icism  of  her  ladyship's  book,  quoting  some  passages,  with  here 
and  there  an  emendation  of  his  own,  and  called  at  the  noble 
mansion  with  the  critique  in  his  pocket.  By  this  bridge  of  well 
born  vanity,  paying  the  humiliating  toll  of  insincere  praise,  he 
crossed  the  repelling  barrier  of  aristocratic  life,  and  entered  it  as 
the  necessary  incumbrance  in  her  ladyship's  literary  fame.  Her 
ladyship  was  "  at  home"  on  Thursday  evenings,  and  Snooks  be 
came  the  invariable  first  comer  and  last  goer-away ;  but  his  hap 
piness  on  these  Thursday  evenings  could  only  be  called  happiness 
when  it  was  reconnoitred  from  the  distance  of  Manchester.  He 
went  always  in  an  irreproachable  waistcoat,  fresh  gloves  and  var 
nished  shoes,  but  his  social  performances  for  the  evening  consist 
ed  in  his  first  bow  to  her  ladyship,  and  her  ladyship's  "  How  d'ye 
do,  -Mr.  Snooks  ?"  After  this  exciting  conversation,  he  became 
ini mediately  interested  in  some  of  the  bijoux  upon  the  tabler 
striding  off  from  that  to  look  at  a  picture  in  the  corner,  or  to 
procure  the  shelter  of  a  bust  upon  a  pedestal,  behind  which  be 
could  securely  observe  the  people,  so  remarkably  unconscious  of 


EPHEMERA.    s  347 


his  presence.  Possibly  toward  the  latter  part  of  the  evening,  a 
dandy  would  level  bis  glass  at  him  and  wonder  how  the  devil  he 
amused  himself,  or  some  purblind  dowager  would  mistake  him  for 
the  footman,  and  ask  him  for  a  glass  of  water  ;  but  these  were 
his  nearest  approaches  to  an  intimacy  with  the  set  in  which  he 
visited.  After  a  couple  of  years  of  intercourse  with  the  nobility 
on  this  footing,  he  becomes  acquainted  with  one  or  two  other 
noble  authors  at  the  same  price,  frequents  their  parties  in  the 
same  way,  and  having  unequivocal  evidence  (in  notes  of  invita 
tion)  that  he  visits  at  the  West  End,  he  now  finds  a  downward 
door  open  to  society  in  Russell  square.  By  dint  of  talking 
authentically  of  my  lady  this,  and  my  lord  the  other,  he  obtains 
a  vogue  at  the  East  End  which  he  could  only  get  by  having  come 
down  from  a  higher  sphere,  and  through  this  vestibule  of  aristo 
cratic  contempt  he  descends  to  the  highest  society  in  which  he 
can  ever  be  familiar.  Mr.  Snooks  has  written  a  novel  in  three 
volumes,  and  considers  himself  fully  established  as  one  of  the 
notabilities  of  London  ;  but  a  fish  out  of  water  is  happy- in  com 
parison  with  Snooks  when  in  the  society  of  the  friends  he  talks 
most  about,  and  if  he  were  to  die  to-morrow,  those  very 
"  friends"  would  with  difficulty  remember  anything  but  his  Ted 
head,  and  the  exemplary  patience  with  which  he  submitted  to  his 
own  society. 

The  fact  is,  that  the  position  of  a  mere  literary  man  in  Eng 
land,  in  any  circle  above  that  to  which  he  is  born,  is  that  of  a 
jackall.  He  is  invited  for  what  he  contributes  to  the  entertain- 
munt  of  the  aristocratic  lions  and  lionesses  who  feed  him.  He 
has  neither  power  nor  privilege  in  their  sphere.  He  dare  not 
introduce  a  friend,  except  as  another  jackall,  and  it  would  be  for* 
yery  extraordinary  reasons  that  he  would  ever  name  at  the  tables 


348  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


where  he  is  most  intimate,  his  father  or  mother,  wife,  sister,  or 
brother.  The  footman,  who  sometimes  comes  to  him  with  a  note 
or  book,  knows  the  difference  between  him  and  the  other  guests 
of  his  master,  and  by  an  unpunishable  difference  of  manner, 
makes  the  distinction  in  his  service.  The  abandon  which  they 
feel  iu  his  presence,  he,  never  feels  in  their s ;  and  we  doubt 
whether  Thomas  Moore  himself,  the  pet  of  the  English  aristoc 
racy  for  forty  years,  ever  forgot,  in  their  company,  that  he  was 
in  the  presence  of  his  superiors,  and  an  object  of  condescension. 
Now  we  have  many  people  in  this  country,  Americans  born, 
who  are  monarchists,  and  who  make  no  scruple  in  private  conver 
sation  of  wishing  for  a  defined  aristocracy,  and  other  infrangible 
distinctions  between  the  different  classes  of  society.  In  the  pic 
ture  they  draw,  however,  they  themselves  figure  as  the  aristo 
crats  ;  and  we  must  take  the  liberty,  for  the  moment,  of  putting 
them  "  below  the  salt,"  and  setting  forth  a  few  of  their  annoy 
ances.  Take  the  best-received  Americans  in  London — yourself, 
for  example,  Mr.  Reader  !  You  have  no  fixed  rank,  and  there 
fore  you  have  nothing  to  keep  you  down,  and  can  rise  to  any 
position  in  the  gift  of  your  noble  entertainer.  As  a  foreigner, 
you  circulate  freely  (as  many  well-introduced  Americans  do) 
through  all  the  porcelain  penetralia,  of  the  West  End.  You  are 
invited  to  dine,  we  will  say,  with  his  grace,  the  Duke  of  Devon 
shire.  There  are  ten  or  twelve  guests,  all  uoble  except  yourself; 
and  when  you  look  round  upon  the  five  other  gentlemen,  it  is  pos 
sible  that,  withqpt  vanity,  you  may  come  to  the  conclusion,  that 
in  dress,  address,  spirit,  and  natural  gifts,  you  are  at  least  the 
equal  of  those  around  you.  Dinner  is  late  in  being  announced, 
and  meantime,  as  you  know  all  the  ladies,  and  are  particularly 
acquainted  with  the  youngest  and  prettiest,  you  sit  down  by  the 


EPHEMERA.  349 


latter,  and  promise  yourself  the  pleasure  of  giving  her  an  arm 
when  the  doors  are  thrown  open,  and  sitting  by  her  at  dinner.. 
The  butler  makes  his  appearance  at  last,  and  the  lady  willingly 
takes  your  arm — when  in  steps  my  Lord  Flummery,  who  is  a  ter 
rible  "  spoon,"  but  undoubtedly  "  my  lord,"  takes  the  lady  from 
you,  and  makes  his  way  to  the  dinner-table.  Your  first  thought 
is  to  follow  and  secure  a  place  on  the  other  side  of  her,  but  still 
another  couple  or  two  are  to  take  precedence,  and  you  are  left  at 
last  to  walk  in  alone,  and  take  the  seat  that  is  left — perhaps 
between  two  men  who  have  a  lady  on  the  other  side.  Pleasant 
— isn't  it  ? 

Again.  You  are  strolling  in  Regent  street  or  the  park  with  an 
Englishman,  whose  acquaintance  you  made  on  your  travels.  He 
is  a  man  of  fortune,  and  as  independent  in  his  character  as  any 
man  in  England.  On  the  continent  he  struck  you  as  particularly 
high-minded  and  free  from  prejudice.  You  are  chatting  with 
him  very  intimately,  when  a  young  nobleman,  not  remarkable  for 
anything  but  his  nobility,  slips  his  arm  into  your  friend's  and 
joins  the  promenade.  From  that  moment  your  friend  gives  you, 
about  as  much  of  his  attention  as  he  does  to  his  walking-stick, 
lets  your  questions  go  unanswered,  let  them  be  never  so  clove/ 
and  enjoys  with  the  high'est  zest  the  most  remote  spoonyosities  of 
my  lord.  You,  perhaps,  as  a  stranger,  visit  in  my  lord's  circle 
of  society,  and  your  friend  does  not ;  but  he  would  as  soon  think 
of  picking  my  lord's  pocket  as  of  introducing  you  to  him,  and, 
if  you  begin  to  think  you  are  Monsieur  de  Trap,  'and  say  "  good 
morning,"  your  friend,  who  never  parted  from  you  before  without 
making  an  engagement  to  see  you  again,  gives  you  a  nod  without 
turning  his  head  from  his  lordship,  and  very  dryly  echoes  your 
"  good  morning."  And  this,  we  repeat,  the  most  independent 


350  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


man  in  England  will  do,  for  he  is  brought  up  to  fear  God  and 
honor  a  lord,  and  it  is  bred  in  his  bone  and  brain. 

We  could  give  a  thousand  similar  instances,  but  the  reader  can 
easily  "imagine  them.  The  life  of  a  commoner  in  England  is  one 
of  inevitable  and  daily  eclipse  and  mortification — nothing  but  the 
force  of  early  habits  and  education  making  it  tolerable  to  the 
Englishman  himself,  and  nothing  at  all  making  it  in  any  way  en 
durable  to  a  republican  of  any  pride  or  spirit.  You  naturally 
say,  "  Why  not  associate  with  tbe  middle  classes,  and  let  the 
aristocracy  go  to  the  devil  r"  but  individually  sending  people  to 
the  devil  is  of  no  use,  and  the  middle  classes  value  yourself  and 
each  other  only  as  your  introduction  to  them  is  aristocratic,  or  as 
their  friends  are  approvable  by  an  aristocratic  eye.  There  is 
no  class  free  from  this  humiliating  weakness.  The  notice  of  a 
lord  will  at  any  time  take  the  wind  out  of  your  sails  when  a  lady 
is  in  tbe  case  ;  your  tailor  will  leave  you  half-measured  to  run  to 
my  lord's  cab  in  the  street ;  your  doctor  will  neglect  your  fever 
for  my  lord's  cold;  your  friend  will  breakfast  with  my  -  lord, 
though  engaged  particularly  to  you  ;  and  the  out-goings,  and  in 
comings,  the  sayings  and  doings,  the  stupidities,  impudencics, 
manners,  greetings,  and  condescensions  of  lords  and  ladies,  usurp 
the  conversation  in  all  places,  and  to  the  interruption  or  exclusion 
of  the  most  grave  or  personal  topics. 

Understand  us,  we  grudge  no  respect  to  dignities  or  authori 
ties.  Even  to  wealth  as  power,  we  are  willing  to  yield  the  wall. 
But  we  say  again,  that  a  republican  spirit  must  rebel  against 
homage  to  anything  human  with  which  it  never  can  compete,  and  in 
this  lies  the  only  distinction  (we  fervently  hope)  which  will  over 
hedge  in  an  American  aristocracy.  Let  who  will  get  to  windward 


EPHEMERA.  351 


of  us  by  superior  sailing — the  richer,  the  handsomer,  the  clev 
erer,  the  stronger,  the  more  beloved  and  gifted — there  was  fair 
play  at  the  start,  and  we  will  pay  deference  and  duty  with  the 
promptest.  But  no,  lords  and  ladies,  Mr.  President,  if  you  love 
us. 


MISS  ALBINA  McLUSH. 

I  HAVE  a  passion  for  fat  women.  If  there  is  anything  I  hate 
in  life,  it  is  what  dainty  people  call  a  spirituelle.  Motion — rapid 
motion — a  smart,  quick,  squirrel-like  step,  a  pert,  voluble  tone — 
in  short,  a  lively  girl — is  my  exquisite  horror !  I  would  as  lief 
have  a  diable  petit  dancing  his  infernal  hornpipe  on  my  cerebel 
lum  as  to  be  in  the  room  with  one.  I  have  tried  before  now  to 
school  myself  into  liking  these  parched  peas  of  humanity.  I 
have  followed  them  with  my  eyes,  and  attended  to  their  rattle 
till  I  was  as  crazy  as  a  fly  in  a  drum.  I  have  danc'ed  with  them, 
and  romped  with  them  in  the  country,  and  perilled  the  salvation 
of  my  "  white  tights  "  by  sitting  near  them  at  supper.  I  swear 
off  from  this  moment.  I  do.  I  won't — no — hang  me  if  ever  I 
show  another  small,  lively,  spry  woman  a  civility. 

Albina  McLush  is  divine.  She  is  like  the  description  of  the 
Persian  beauty  by  Hafiz  :  "  her  heart  is  full  of  passion  and  her 
eyes  are  full  of  sleep."  She  is  the  sister  of  Lurly  McLush,  my 
old  college  chum,  who,  as  early  as  his  sophomore  year,  was  chosen 
president  of  the  Dolce-far-nienle  Society — no  member  of  which 
was  ever  known  to  be  surprised  at  anything — (the  college  law  of 


MISS    ALBINA    McLUSH.  353 


rising  before  breakfast  excepted.)  Lurly  introduced  me  to  his 
«ister  one  day,  as  he  w*as  lying  upon  a  heap  of  turnips,  leaning  on 
his  elbow  with  his  head  in  his  hand,  in  a  green  lane  in  the  sub 
urbs.  He  had  driven  over  a  stump,  and  been  tossed  out  of  his 
gig,  and  I  came  up  just  as  he  was  wondering  how  in  the  d — 1's 
name  he  got  there  !  Albina  sat  quietly  in  the  gig,  and  when  I 
was  presented,  requested  me,  with  a  delicious  drawl,  to  say  no 
thing  about  the  adventure — "  it  would  be  so  troublesome  to  relate 
it  to  everybody  !'J  I  loved  her  from  that  moment.  Miss 
McLush  was  tall,  and  her  shape,  of  its  kind,  was  perfect.  It 
was  not  a  fleshy  one,  exactly,  but  she  was  large  and  full.  Her 
skin  was  clear,  fine-grained,  and  transparent :  her  temples  and 
forehead  perfectly  rounded  and  polished,  and  her  lips  and  chin 
swelling  into  a  ripe  and  tempting  pout,  like  the  cleft  of  a  bursted 
apricot.  And  then  her  eyes — large,  liquid,  and  sleepy — they  lan 
guished  beneath  their  long  black  fringes  as  if  they  had  no  busi 
ness  with  daylight — like  two  magnificent  dreams,  surprised  in 
their  jet  embryos  by  some  bird-nesting  cherub.  Oh !  it  was 
lovely  to  look  into  them  ! 

She  sat,  usually,  upon  a  fauteuil^  with  her  large,  full  arm  em 
bedded  in  the  cushion,  sometimes  for  hours  without  stirring.  I 
have  seen  the  wind  lift  the  masses  of  dark  hair  from  her  shoul 
ders  when  it  seemed  like  the  coming  to  life  of  a  marble  Hebe — 
she  had  been  motionless  so  long.  She  was  a  model  for  a  goddess 
of  sleep,  as  she  sat  with  her  eyes  half  closed,  lifting  up  their 
superb  lids  slowly  as  you  spoke  to  her,  and  dropping  them  again 
with  the  deliberate  motion  of  a  cloud,  when  she  had  murmured 
out  her  syllable  of  assent.  Her  figure,  in  a  sitting  posture,  pre 
sented  a  gentle  declivity  from  the  curve  of  her  neck  to  the  instep 
of  the  small  round  foot  lying  on  its  side  upon  the  ottoman.  I 


354  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


remember  a  fellow's  bringing  her  a  plate  of  fruit  one  evening. 
He  was  one  of  your  lively  men — a  horrid  monster,  all  right  an 
gles  and  activity.  Having  never  been  accustomed  to  hold  her 
own  plate,  she  had  not  well  extricated  her  whole  fingers  from  her 
handkerchief,  before  he  set  it  down  in  her  lap.  As  it  began 
slowly  to  slide  towards  her  feet,  her  hand  relapsed  into  the  mus 
lin  folds,  and  she  fixed  her  eye  upon  it  with  a  kind  of  indolent 
surprise,  drooping  her  lids  gradually,  till  as  the  fruit  scattered 
over  the  ottoman,  they  closed  entirely,  and  a  liquid  jet  line  was 
alone  visible  through  the  heavy  lashes.  There  was  an  imperial 
indifference  in  it  worthy  of  Juno. 

Miss  McLush  rarely  walks.  When  she  does,  it  is  with  the  de 
liberate  majesty  of  a  Dido.  Her  small,  plump  feet  melt  to  the 
ground  like  snow-flakes ;  and  her  figure  sways  to  the  indolent 
motion  of  her  limbs  with  a  glorious  grace  and  yieldingness  quite 
indescribable.  She  was  idling  slowly  up  the  Mall  one  evening 
just  at  twilight,  with  a  servant  at  a  short  distance  behind  her, 
who,  to  while  away  the  time  between  his  steps,  was  employing 
himself  in  throwing  stones  at  the  cows  feeding  upon  the  Common. 
A  gentleman,  with  a  natural  admiration, for  her  splendid  person, 
addressed  her.  He  might  have  done  a  more  eccentric  thing. 
Without  troubling  herself  to  look  at  him,  she  turned  to  her  ser 
vant  and  requested  him,  with  a  yawn  of  desperate  ennui,  to  knock 
that  fellow  down  !  John  obeyed  his  orders ;  and,  as  his  mistress 
resumed  her  lounge,  picked  up  a  new  handful 'of  pebbles,  and  toss 
ing  one  at  the  nearest  cow,  loitered  lazily  after. 

Such  supreme  indolence  was  irresistible.  I  gave  in — I — who 
never  before  could  summon  energy  to  sigh — I — to  whom  a  de 
claration  was  but  a  synonym  for  perspiration — I — who  had  only 


MISS  ALBINA  McLUSH.  355 


thought  of  love  as  a  nervous  complaint,  and  of  women  but  to 
pray  for  a  good  deliverance — I — yes — I — knocked  under.  Al- 
bina  McLush  !  Thou  wert  too  exquisitely  lazy.  Human  sensi 
bilities  cannot  hold  out  forever  ! 

I  found  her  one  morning  sipping  her  coffee  at,  twelve,  with  her 
eyes  wide  open.  She  was  just  from  the  bath,  and  her  complexion 
bad  a  soft,  dewy  transparency,  like  the  cheek  of  Venus  rising 
from  the  sea.  It  was  the  hour,  Lurly  had  told  me,  when  she 
would  be  at  the  trouble  of  thinking.  She  put  away  with  her  dim 
pled  forefinger,  as  I  entered,  a  cluster  of  rich  curls  that  had  fallen 
over  her  face,  and  nodded  to  me  like  a  water-lily  swaying  to  the 
wind  when  its  cup  is  fulj  of  rain. 

"  Lady  Albina,"  said  I,  in  my  softest  tone,  "  how  are  you  ?" 

"  Bettina,"  said  she,  addressing  her  maid  in  a  voice  as  clouded 
and  rich  as  a  south  wind  on  an  ><Eolian,  "how  am  I  to-day  ?" 

The  conversation  fell  into  short  sentences.  The  dialogue  be 
came  a  monologue.  I  entered  upon  my  declaration.  With  the 
assistance  of  Bettina,  who  supplied  her  mistress  with  cologne,  I 
kept  her  attention  alive  through  the  incipient  circumstances. 
Symptoms  were  .soon  told..  I  came  to  the  avowal.  Her  hand 
lay  reposing  on  .the  arm  of  the  sofa,  half  buried  in  a  maslin 
foulard.  I  took  it  up  and  pressed  the  cool  soft  fingers  to  my  lips 
— unforbidden.  I  rose  and  looked  into  her  eyes  for  confirmation. 
Delicious  creature  !  she  was  asleep  ! 

I  never  have  had  courage  to  renew  the  subject.  Miss  McLush 
seems  to  have  forgotten  it  altogether.  Upon  reflection,  too,  I'm 
convinced  she  would  not  survive  the  excitement  of  the  ceremony 
— unless,  indeed,  she  should  sleep  between  the  responses  and  the 
prayer.  I  am  still  devoted,  however,  and  if  there  should  come 


356  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


a  war  or  an  earthquake,  or  if  the  millennium  should  commence, 
as  is  expected,  in  1833,  or  if  anything  happens  that  can  keep  her 
waking  so  long,  I  shall  deliver  a  declaration,  abbreviated  for  me 
•by  a  scholar-friend  of  mine,  which,  he  warrants,  may  be  articula 
ted  in  fifteen  minutes — without  fatigue. 


THE  NEED 'OF  TWO  LOVES, 

IN  the  village  of  Rooky  brook  there  was  one  beauty  who  did  not 
look  as  if  she  were  born  there.  Eyes  as  dark  as  hers  might  have 
been  found  among  the  other  belles  of  the  neighborhood — features 
as  regular,  and  skin  as  fair,  for  a  brunette  ;  but  there  was  a  cer 
tain  character  in  the  complete  presence  of  Lilian  Tevis — face, 
form,  movements  and  general  air — which  seemed  to  breathe  of 
another  climate,  and  to  be  imprinted  with  the  habits  and  associa 
tions  of  another  country  and  race.  She  was  unconscious,  appar 
ently,  of  possessing  any  advantage  over  her  companions,  either  in 
looks  or  mental  qualities,  and  the  peculiarities  of  her  manner 
would  have  been  attributed,  probably,  by  any  one  of  the  neigh 
bors,  to  great  natural  reserve,  and  to  a  near-sightedness  which 
might  easily  make  her  unaware  of  what  was  passing  around  her. 
Her  father  was  a  Quaker  farmer,  in  good  circumstances,  and  her 
mother  was  an  enthusiast  in  that  poetical  and  spirit-nurturing 
religion,  so  that  Lilian's  education,  though  simple  as  it  could  well 
be,  had  conspired  with  her  timidity  to  turn  her-thoughts  in  upon 
herself,  fostering  most  the  imaginative  and  dreamy  side  of  her 
nature. 

In  the  assorting  and  coupling  by  the  village  gossips,  Lily  Tevis 


358  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


was  invariably  named  with  the  son  of  "  Contractor  Brown,"  al 
most  the  only  young  man  in  the  vicinity  who  "  had  been  to  col 
lege."  The  contractor  was  a  stern  father,  and  had  taken  his  son 
into  business  after  giving  hiiu  an  education,  exacting  such  service 
as  kept  him  well  out  of  the  way  of  love  and  leisure.  To  go  to 
the  city,  or  to  the  backwoods,  at  a  minute's  warning — to  pass  a 
month  on  horseback  overlooking  workmen — to  toil  one  week, 
night  and  day,  over  estimates,  and,  the  next  week,  climb  hills 
with  surveyors  and  engineers — was  a  kind  of  life  that  promised, 
at  least,  as  his  father  expressed  it,  "  to  take  the  nonsense  out  of 
him."  A  dread  of  this  "  nonsense  "  indeed — a  vague  dislike  of 
everything  that  "  didn't  pay  " — was  the  key  to  most  of  the  pater 
nal  advice,  which  had  been  distributed  along  through  the  boyhood 
and  youth  of  young  Brown,  and  it  had  gradually  formed  his  mind 
to  a  habit  of  trusting  nothing  to  utterance,  or  to  the  knowledge 
of  others,  which  would  not  bear  the  scrutiny  of  this  practical 
standard  Shut  off  from  sentiment,  however,  the  high  health  and 
spirits  of  Frank  Brown  found  expression  in  exuberant  gayety  of 
manner ;  and,  whenever  in  the  society  of  the  village  belles,  he 
was  invariably  so  good-humored  and  merry,  that  it  passed  for  the 
only  possible  shape  of  his  natural  di.sposition.  Such  he  was 
thought  to  be — and  such  only — even  by  Lily  Tevis,  who,  not 
withstanding,  had  a  preference  for  him,  over  all  the  young  men 
she  had  ever  seen  ;  and,  without  any  definite  avowal  of  love,  she 
had  tacitly  accepted  his  preference  as  shown  in  slight  attentions, 
and  felt  affianced  to  him  by  some  unseen  chain  of  reciprocated 
feelings  and  sympathies.  She  frankly  and  gladly  received  the 
news  of  him,  when  he  was  absent,  (brought  to  her  by  those  who 
thought  her  and  youug  Brown  "  the  same  as  engaged,")  and  re- 


THE  NEED  OF  TWO  LOVES.  359 


ceived  the  especial  smile  of  the  contractor,  when  he  spoke  to  her 
on  the  road,  with  no  special  sense  of  its  misapplication. 

But,  though  she   thus  let   the  outer  world,  and  the  feelings 
which  belonged  to  it,  take  their  course,  there  was  an  inner  world 
in  which   Lily   felt  more   at   home,  and  to  which  her   thoughts 
turned  oftenest  during  her  many   hours   of  solitude.      Of   this 
world  of  poetry  and  imagination,  her  chamber  door  was  the  enter 
ing  porch ;  and  the  key  of  that  white-curtained  sanctuary  shut 
out  behind  her  the  visible  world,  with  its  associations  and  affec 
tions,  as  if  the  threshold  had  been  guarded  by  an  angel.     Here 
were  her  books.     Here  stood  the  table  atr  which  she  sat  to  read 
and  dream.     The  window  opened   upon   the   long  roof  of  her 
mother's  pantry  and  store  rooms,  which  had  been  boxed  in  and 
floored,  and  converted  into  a  terrace  for  flowers.     It  was  consist 
ent  with  Mrs.  Tevis's  religion,  and  the  unconfessed  poetry  of  her 
nature,  to  encourage  her  daughter  in  habits  of  seclusion  and  priv 
acy,  and  this  terrace  of  flowers,  visited  by  no  other  eye  than  Lily's 
and  her  own,  seemed  to  her  like  the  field  of  spirit  communings, 
in  which  she  wished  her  beloved  child  to  meet   the  unseen  corn- 
pauy  that  is  ever  about  us.     It  had  gradually  become  the  under 
stood  custom  of  the  household   to  observe  a  deference  toward  Li 
lian,  with   regard  to  the   hours  when  she  was  accustomed,  to   be 
alone  ;  and  the  privacy  of  that  chamber,  and  of  the  garden-walks 
around  under  the  terrace,  were  looked  upon  as  sacred.     With  the 
reserve  of  character  which  this  was  calculated  to  deepen  and  ren 
der  more  sensitive,  and  with  the  increasing  quickness  of  percep 
tion  as  to  the  want  of  harmony  between  the  rude  world  without 
and  the  gentle  world  within,  it  was  not  wonderful   that  Lilian 
Tevis  became  the  imaginative  being  that  she  wa&>  or  that  her  new 


360  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


thoughts  and  emotions,  in  this  more  ideal  of  her  two  worlds, 
should  have  been  as  secret  as  this  story  will  show. 


It  had  sometimes  crossed  Lilian's  mind,  that  the  thoughts  and 

*  O 

occupations  on  which  she  set  the  most  value,  were  those  in  which 
Frank  Brown  had  no  share — for  his  conversations,  when  in  her 
presence,  were,  usually  divided  between  news  and  fun — but  she 
had  felt  no  need,  up  to  the  time  when  our  story  commences,  of 
looking  beyond  his  preference  and  attention,  for  companionship 
or  sympathy.  A  new  light  had  lately  broken  in  upon  her,  how 
ever.  In  one  of  the  periodicals  which  graced  her  well-stored  ta 
ble,  a  new  writer  had  made  his  appearance.  Poems,  over  the  sig 
nature  of  "  Ernest,"  came,  in  successive  numbers,  and,  from  the 
very  first  which  she  had  read,  they  had  singularly  riveted  her  at 
tention.  Without  being  finished  as  elaborately  as  those  of  other 
writers,  they  had  a  certain  close  truthfulness  .to  her  own  emotions, 
and  to  the  instincts  of  her  own  nature,  which  made  them  seem 
like  words  she  might  have  uttered  in  her  sleep,  or  revelations, 
that  she  might  have  made  from  her  inmost  being,  in  the  clairvoy 
ance  of  magnetism.  Though  she  had,  herself,  never  written  in 
verse,  and  though  the  subjects  were  such  as  she  had  never  talked 
upon,  and  the  language  new,  and  with  no  imitation  of  any  other 
poet  whom  she  had  read,  there  was  recognition  in  her  heart  for 
the  truth  of  every  line.  She  had  a  spirit  kindred  to  the  writer's, 
whoever  he  might  be  ;  and  whether  or  not  he  had  seen  and  known 
her  in  other  worlds,  (as  she  could  scarce  help  believing,)  he  was 
now  the  interpreter  of  her  soul. 

For  the  successive  numbers  of  the  periodical  in  which  appeared 


THE  NEED  OF  TWO  LOVES.          361 


the  poems  of  ''Ernest,"  Lilian  waited  with  feverish  impatience. 
Each  new  one  seemed  truer  and  deeper,  in  its  voicing  forth  of 
what  her  soul  had,  hitherto,  only  left  unsaid.  She  committed 
them  to  memory  with  the  first  reading  of  them, -and  they  haunted 
her,  waking  and  sleeping,  in  her  walks  and  in  her  dreams. 
Toward  the  writer,  whoever  he  might  be,  she  began  to  feel  the 
confidingness  of  intimacy  and  friendship. .  That,  in  some  spirit- 
guise  or  other,  he  visited  her  mind,  and  could  be  made  conscious 
of  what  therein  responded  to  his  own  beautiful  thoughts,  was  a 
conscious  feeling  in  her  bosom  which  amounted  to  a  conviction. 
It  was  with  a  resistless  desire  to  record  and  retain  the  mementoes 
of  this  intercourse,  that  she  first  took  pen  and  paper.  She  had 
no  intention  to  send  the  letter  to  "Ernest"  which  she  then 
wrote.  That  one  of  these  transcripts  of  reverie  was  afterward 
sent  to  him,  enclosed  to  the  editor  of  the  periodical  to  which  he 
was  a  contributor,  and  that  it  resulted  in  an  actual  correspon 
dence,  in  which  neither  knew  the  real  name  of  the  other,  was  a 
reality  which  came  about,  Lilian  scarce  knew  how.  She  had  fol 
lowed  the  dictation  of  timidity  in  using  a  fictitious  signature ; 
and,  in  arranging  to  receive  the  replies  through  a  channel  which 
would  not  betray  her  residence,  she  was  prompted  by  .the  dread 
of  seeming  forward  and  strange  to  those  who  would  not  under 
stand  the  nature  of  the  correspondence.  With  the  beginnings 
thus  explained,  the  two  following  letters,  from  a  more  advanced 
stage  of  the  epistolary  acquaintance,  will,  perhaps,  be  read  com- 
prehendingly  : — 


362  FUN   JOTTINGS. 


ERMENGARDE    TO    ERNEST. 


All  asleep  around  me,  dear  Ernest,  save  the  birds  and  insects 
to  whom  night  is  the  time  for  waking.  The  stars  and  they  are 
the  company  of  such  lovers  of  the  thought-world  as  you  and  I, 
and,  considering  how  beautiful  night  is,  nature  seems  to  have  ar 
ranged  it  for  a  gentler  and  loftier  order  of  beings,  who  alternate 
the  conscious  possession  of  the  earth  with  those  who  wake  by  day. 
Shall  wo  think  better  of  ourselves  for  joining  this  nightingale 
troop,  or  is  it  (as  I  sometimes  dread)  a  culpable  shunning  of  the 
positive  duties  which  belong  to  us  as  creatures  of  sunshine  ? 
Alas !  this  is  but  one  of  many  shapes  in  which  the  same  thought 
comes  up  to  trouble  me  !  In  yielding  to  this  passion  for  solitude 
— in  communing,  perhaps  selfishly,  with  my  own  thoughts,  in  pre 
ference  to  associating  with  friends  and  companions — in  writing, 
spiritually  though  it  be,  to  you,  in  preference  to  thinking  tenderly 
of  him — I  seem  to  myself  to  be  doing  wrong.  Is  it  so  ?  Can  I 
divide  my  two  natures,  and  rightfully  pour  my  spirit's  reserve 
freely  out  to  you,  while  I  give  to  him  who  thinks  me  all  his  own, 
only  the  every-day  affection  which  he  seems  alone  to  value  ?  Yet 
the  best  portion  of  my  nature  would  be  unappreciated  else— the 
noblest  questionings  of  my  soul  would  be  without  response — the 
world  I  most  live  in  would  be  utterly  lonely.  I  fear  to  decide 
the  question  yet.  I  am  too  happy  in  writing  to  you.  I  will  defer 
it,  at  least,  till  I  have  sounded  the  depths  of  the  well  of  angels 
from  which  I  am  now  quenching  my  thirst — till  I  know  all  the  joy 
and  luxury  which,  it  seems  to  me,  the  exchange  of  these  inner 
most  breathings  of  the  soul  can  alone  give. 


THE  NEED  OF  TWO  LOVES.  363 


You  are  waking,  Ernest,  I  well  know.  With  this  fragrant  air 
and  this  thought-stirring  moon,  you  would  not  sleep.  I  have  re 
quested  you  to  keep  me  in  ignorance  of  where  you  are — whether 
far  away  or  near — and  of  all  that  could  modify  or  conflict  with 
my  fancy's  conception  of  you.  But,  wherever. you  are,  the  lus 
trous  orb  that  throws  a  beam  in  at  my  window,  throws  another 
to  your  upward  eye,  and  by  these  electric  threads,  joined  in  the 
luminous  circle  of  the  moon,  thought  passes  between  us.  Oh, 
how  beautiful  were  the  words  in  which  you  clothed  one  of  these 
thoughts — your  thought  and  mine — iu  the  poem  which  came  yes 
terday  !  How  adorable  is  the  gift,  thus  to  be  able  to  transfer 
them,  in  unchanged  eloquenca,  from  the  inarticulate  world  of  re 
verie  to  the  language  in  which  others  can  share  them  !  Angelic 
poet !  Glorious  master  of  two  existences,  and  beautiful  in  both  ! 
Accept  my  appreciation  and  my  homage  !  Listen  to  me,  over 
this  arch  of  moonbeams,  built  radiantly  between  us  ! 

Ah  me !  these  are  strange  words  that  I  have  written.  My 
flushed  cheek  betrays  to  me  that  my  spirit  draws  my  heart  along 
with  its  dreamtide  !  I  should  not  write  to  you  with»this  trembling 
hand,  aud  these  impassioned  syllables.  I  must  drop  my  curtain 
and  shut  out  this  moon,  and  still  my  disturbed  spirit.  I  will  try 
to  sleep.  Good  night,  Ernest,  and  may  the  calm  angels  that 
watch  over  us,  bring  to  you  the  inspired  visions  for  which  you 

wait,  and  tranquil  dreams  to 

t 
Your  spirit  worshipper, 

ERMENGARDE. 

The  letter  which  follows  was  not  in  reply  to  the  foregoing.  It 
was  written  after  several  had  been  exchanged  on,  the  subject  to 


364  FUN    JOTTINGS. 


which  it  mainly  refers,  as  best  explaining  the  feelings  entertained 
by  the  writer  toward  her  whom  he  addressed : — 


ERNEST    TO    ERMENGARDE. 


You  refuse  to  let  me  once  rest  my  eyes  upon  you.  I  can 
understand  that  there  might  be  a  timidity  in  the  first  thought  of 
meeting  one  with  whom  you  had  corresponded  without  acquaint 
ance,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  a  second  thought  must  remind  you 
how  much  deeper  and  more  sacred  than  "  acquaintance,"  our 
interchange  of  sympathies  has  been.  Why,  dear  Ermengarde, 
you  know  me  better  than  those  who  see  me  every  day.  My 
most  intimate  companion  knows  me  less.  Even  she  to  whom  I, 
perhaps,  owe  all  confidence,  and  who  might  weep  over  the  reser 
vation  of  what  I  have  shared  with  you,  had  she  the  enlargement 
of  soul  to  comprehend  it  —  even  she  knows  me  but  as  a  child 
knows  the  binding  of  a  book,  while  you  have  read  me  well. 
Why  should  you  fear  to  let  me  once  take  your  features  into  my 
memory,  that  -this  vague  pain  of  starry  distance  and  separation 
may  be  removed  or  lessened  ? 

I  must  see  you.  I  have  thought,  as  you  know,  that  we  could 
realise  a  presence  by  exchange  of  thought  —  that  the  eyes  need 
have*  no  part  in  the  interchange  of  minds.  I  even  took  pleasure 
in  believing  —  that  I  had,  in  this  common-place  and  material 
world,  one  viewless  link  —  one  friendship  with  a  spirit,  of  whom 
my  mortal  eyes  knew  nothing.  But  I  was  wrong.  I  feel,  now, 
that  I  have  more  noed  than  others  to  see  you,  since  I  know,  more 
than  others,  what  your  features  should  confirm  and  interpret. 
There  is  a  point,  in  mere  intellectual  appreciation,  where  the 
heart  irresistibly  comes  in,  and  demands  to  see,  with  real  eyes, 


THE  NEED  OF  TWO  LOVES.  365 


the  form  in  which  is  enshrined  such  an  idol.  That  the  reverse  is 
also  true— that  mere  thoughtless  affection  comes  to  a  point  where 
the  mind  demands  that  it,  too,  shall  have  something  to  worship — 
is  a  more  frequent  discovery  in  intimacies.  But  I  will  not  misre 
present  my  present  impulse  by  coldly  reasoning  upon  it.  It  is 
struggling  in  my  heart,  and  pleading  earnestly  to  see  you.  Will 
you  longer  deny  me,  dear  Ermengarde  ? 

By  your  sweet  confirmation  of  the  truthfulness  of  my  poem,  in 
your  last  letter,  I  was  deeply  touched.  There  was  that  in  it 
which  I  felt  to  be  simply  sincere,  and  which  proved  to  me  that  I 
have  in  you  the  treasure  without  which  a  poet  cannot  live — entire 
appreciation  by  one  mind  and  heart.  I  had  wanted  this — oh, 
how  painfully  and  deeply — till  you  first  wrote  to  me  !  Criticism, 
and  success  over  competitors  had  satisfied  me  that  what  I  wrote 
was  truly  measured,  but  I  needed  to  know  that  it  was  also  /e$, 
and  that  I  was  loved  for  writing  it.  The  world's  admission  of  the 
poet's  merit  is  vague  and  cold.  There  are  hours  when  he  can  nei 
ther  realize  n6r  believe  it.  But  in  the  sweet  praise  of  one  to 
whose  heart  his  meanings  have  gone  home — one  who  recognizes, 
by  the  inner  woof  of  her  own  spirit,  the  fibre  from  which  his 
Charmed  words  were  spun — one  who  sees  his  better  nature  when 
^  she  looks  upon  him,  and  thinks  of  his  best  gifts  first,  at  the  mo 
ments  when  he  comes  up  to  her  memory — in  such  an  appreciator, 
kind  and  ever  ready  to  encourage  and  commend,  the  poet  feels 
his  best  happiness  bound  up.  He  turns  to  her  from  the  world. 
He  thinks  of  her  in  sadness.  He  writes  with  her  sweet  eyes 
looking  on.  Other  affections  may  employ  his  instinctive  tender 
ness,  and  his  gay  and  thoughtless  hours  ;  but,  in  his  soul's  retire 
ment  he  asks  for  an  interpreter  who  can  enter  with  him — for  the 
sweet  reader  of  what  common  affections  never  reach. 


366  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


I  feel  that  you  will  not  persist  in  refusing  me.  With  thoughts 
so  genial  and  sympathetic  as  yours,  there  must  be  a  heart  of 
kindness  beating  in  unison,  and  I  cannot  long  plead  earnestly  in 
yain.  Tell  me  but  where  you  are,  and  by  what  name  you  are 
known  to  those  who  are  so  blessed  as  to  look  upon  you,  and  I  will 
fly  to  your  side,  or  arrange  to  meet  you,  with  as  guarded  delicacy 
as  you  will.  Only  let  me  once  see  you-— once  take  and  treasure 
your  living  image  in  my  soul's  memory — and  I  ask  no  more. 
Hear  me,  dear  Ermengarde,  and  let  me  write  myself,  not  alone 
your  unseen  poet,  but 

Your  friend.  ERNEST. 


'  There  was  an  arrival  of  two  Quaker  ladies  and  a  young  gen 
tleman  at  the  Astor — (Mrs.  and  Miss  Tevis,  and  Mr.  F.  Brown, 
as  it  read  on  the  register) — one  lovely  evening  in  June.  The 
ladies  had  come  down  from  Rockybrook  "  to  shop,"  and  as  Mrs. 
Tevis  had  chanced  to  hear  that  "  friend  Frank"  was  also  medi 
tating  a  journey  to  town,  she  had  bespoke  his  protection  and  com 
pany,  though  (a  little  to  her  surprise)  Lilian  had  not  seemed 
positively  pleased  when  this  accidental  good  fortune  was  first 
announced. 

Spite  of  Lilian's  perverseness,  however,  Frank  had  succeeded 
in  making  the  journey  agreeable — his  high  spirits  and  privil  .:  <1 
ease  of  manner,  acting  with  their  usual  charm  on  the  quiet 
reserve  of  the  lovely  Quakeress,  and,  to  the  mother's  eye,  all 
things  flowing  with  a  full  tide  in  the  current  of  an  understood 
affection.  Lilian  had  had  many  a  restless  misgiving,  notwith 
standing,  as  she  sat  on  the  steamer's  deck,  listening  to  the  arnus- 


THE  NEED  OF  TWO  LOVES.  367 


ing  chat  of  her  presumed  lover.  She  was  going  to  town  on  a 
concealed  errand.  It  was  after  writing  a  reluctant  assent  to  the 
fervent  plea  of  her  secret  correspondent  for  a  meeting,  that  she 
had  expressed  the  wish  for  a  journey,  which  had  led  her  mother 
to  discover  some  necessities  that  were  before  unthought  of,  for  a 
shopping  visit  to  JNTew  York.  Mrs.  Tevis  needed  seldom  more 
than  a  hint  to  anticipate  or  guess  at  her  daughter's  wishes,  and 
she  had  foreshadowed  this  one,  with  that  unconscious  maternal 
clairvoyance,  which  all  who  have  had  such  mothers  will  under 
stand. 

Lilian  felt,  by  no  means,  certain  that  she  should  not  confide 
her  secret  to  Frank  before  its  purpose  was  carried  out.  She 
longed  to  do  so.  Her  deeply  cherished  habit  of  affection  for  him 
seemed  to  claim  a  confidence  on  the  subject  as  his  right,  while,  on 
the  other  hand,  she  both  feared  his  disapproval,  and  dreaded  that 
he  might  fancy  it  to  be  a  coquetry  intended  to  bring  him  to  an 
avowal.  That  she  had  secretly  corresponded  with  another,  had 
admired  that  other  for  exactly  the  qualities  which  Frank  seemed 
entirely  deficient  in,  and  that  she  was  about  to  see  his  rival,  and 
weigh,  one  against  the  other,  the  attractions  of  the  two — were 
truths  which  could  be  made  to  wear  a  very  culpable  aspect, 
though  an  almost  irresistible  instinct  prompted  her  to  divulge  all. 
She  had  not  owned  to  herself  that  she  loved  this  unseen  poet.  It 
was  the  theory  by  wbich  she  kept  up  her  self-justification,  that  a 
friendship  growing  out  of  mere  interchange  of  thoughts,  need  not 
interfere  with  the  constancy  of  an  affection  founded  on  such  inti 
macy  as  hers  with  Frank.  She  sighed  only,  in  trying  to  separate 
the  two,  that  their  qualities  were  not  combined  in  one.  That  a 
lover  who  had  the  winning  and  attaching  every-day  qualities  of 
Frank  Brown,  could  not  also  be  a  high-soulod  poet,  alive  to  the 


3G3  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


loftier  and  more  elevating  converse  of  the  soul,  seemed  to  lier  in 
accordance  with  that  universal  imperf'ectness  of  human  allotment, 
over  which  philosophers  and  bards  have,  from  time  immemorial, 
made  moan.  She  only  hoped  that  in  this  secret  intellectual  inti 
macy,  she  was  not  cultivating  an  ideal  preference  which  would 
make  her  real  love  seem  poor  and  insufficient.  How  the  two — 
Ernest  and  Frank — would  compare,  as  real  men,  was  the  problem 
which  entirely  occupied  her,  at  present,  and  which  the  interview 
of  the  next  morning  was  most  excitingly  to  solve. 


The  breakfast  of  the  three  visitors  from  Rockybrook,  at  the 
Astor  House  table,  was  inexplicably  embarrassed  by  reserve,  on 
the  day  which  was  to  bring  Lilian  and  Ernest  for  the  first  time 
together.  Mrs.  Tevis  concluded  that  the  lovers  had  had  a  quar 
rel.  After  making  several  efforts  to  enliven  the  conversation,  she 
discreetly  gave  it  up,  biding  her  time  for  an  explanation.  Lilian 
looked  flushed  and  restless.  She  feared  momently  that  Frank 
would  propose  some  engagement  which  would  make  it  necessary 
to  plead  other  occupation  for  that  day.  He  was,  fortunately, 
silent  as  to  the  disposal  of  her  morning,  however.  His  own. 
business  in  town  seemed  to  be  the  only  matter  in  his  thoughts. 
They  rose  from  table  and  separated,  to  Lilian's  infinite  relief, 
with  only  a  mention  of  meeting  again  for  dinner. 

To  be  disembarrassed  of  her  mother's  presence,  by  sending 
her  out  to  make  some  purchases,  upon  which  she  pleaded  want 
of  spirits  to  accompany  her,  was  Lilian's  first  move  after  break 
fast.  She  did  this  with  a  self-reproach  and  unwillingness  which 


THE  NEED/)F  TWO  LOVES.  369 


almost  brought  her  to  an  outpouring  of  her  heart's  whole  secret 
to  her  mother,  but  the  undercurrent  of  her  destiny  prevailed. 
With  a  kiss  and  a  careful  injunction  to  her  that  she  should  take 
a  book  and  read  away  her  melancholy  mood,  Mrs.  Tevis  closed 
the  door  upon  her  daughter,  and  she  was  left  to  the  fulfillment 
of  her  engagement,  without  dread  or  interruption. 

It  lacked  but  a  few  minutes  of  eleven,  when  Lilian  descended 
to  the  ladies'  drawing-room  of  the  Astor.  She  found  it,  as  she 
had  presumed  she  should  do,  and  as  it  usually  is  at  that  hour  of 
the  morning,  deserted.  The  deep  window  looking  out  upon  St. 
Paul's  leafy  church-yard,  was  unoccupied,  and  it  was  here  that 
she  was  to  sit,  as  the  clock  -istruok  eleven,  and,  with  a  book 
pressed  to  her  lips  as  an  indication  that  she  was  "  Ermengarde," 
and  that  "  Ernest"  was  at  liberty  to  approach  and  address  her  as 
an  acquaintance.  Everything  looked  fortunately  conspiring  to 
give  pleasure  to  the  interview.  Not  a  guest  had  chanced  to  re 
main,  to  overhear  the  conversation  which  would  needs  be  embar 
rassing  enough,  even  were  they  alone ;  the  shutters  had  been 
closed  to  a  twilight  dimness  by  the  servants ;  and  the  air  of  the 
morning  was  of  the  genial  and  sweet  temperature  which  favors 
the  interchange  of  the  sympathies.  The  lovely  and  trembling 
Quakeress  of  Rockybrook  thought  she  never  had  breathed  air 
more  delicious — in  a  city  though  she  recognized  its  balm. 

It  lacked  one  minute  to  eleven.  Was  she  watched  ?  A  head 
was  certainly  thrust  past  the  opening  of  the  door,  and  as  certainly 
it  seemed  to  her  that  it  was  the  quick  movement  of  her  lover's. 
How  unspeakably  embarrassing  would  be  his  entrance  at  that 
moment !  How  should  she  explain  her  interview  with  a  stranger  ? 
By  what  name — knowing  only  the  name  of  "  Ernest  "  for  him 
whom  she  expected — should  she  introduce  to  Frank  Brown  the 
10*  ' 


370  FUN  JOTTINGS. 


person  with  whom   he  would  find  her    in  conversation  ?     Alas 
these  were  difficulties  against  which  she  had  neglected  to  provido 
The  punishment  of  her  culpable  concealments  seemed  now  to  be 
inevitably  upon   her.     Her  heart,  for  that  minute  of  suspense, 
came  to  a  stand  still. 

Eleven  !  She  closed  her  eyes  and  pressed  the  book  to  her 
lips,  and,  with  her  face  turned  away  from  the  opening  door, 
awaited  the  approach  of  an  entering  and  hesitating  step,  which 
she  overheard  as  the  slow  clock  pealed  out  its  heavy  reverbera 
tions.  How  should  she  speak !  Her  breath  choked  with  the 
quick  pantings  in  her  throat.  She  crowded  the  volume  convul 
sively  to  her  lips,  and  dropped  her  head  in  utter  confusion  upon 
her  bosom. 

But  the  step  was  near  her.  One  whom  she  did  not  dare  to 
look  on,  had  approached,  and  now  stood  silent  and  motionless 
behind  her.  Another  moment  of  stillness  that  seemed  an  eter 
nity  to  Lilian,  and  she  felt  a  warm  breath  upon  her  temple. 

"  Ermengarde  !"  said  a  low  voice,  and,  to  her  sudden  and  utter 
consternation,  a  kiss  was  impressed  upon  her  cheek,  and  an  en 
closing  arm  drew  her  into  its  embrace  ! 

"  Frank !" 

"  Lilian !» 

And  the  revelation  of  the  -mystery  dawned  on  the  mind  of  the 
astonished  girl,  for,  in  a  voice  of  half-mischief,  and  half-tender 
ness,  he  said : 

"  Not  Frank,  but  'Ernest !'  » 

In  the  tight  clasp  of  the  lovers  to  each  other's  arms,  which 
occupied  the  next  minute,  there  was  not  much  explanation — but 
there  was  no  end  to  their  wondering,  afterward,  how  they  possibly 
could  have  been  so  in  the  dark  as  to  their  respective  inner  cha- 


THE  NEED  OF  TWO  LOVES.  371 


racters,  how  they  should  have  lacked  the  confidingness  to  mingle 
intellects  as  well  as*  am  use  in  cuts  and  idle  nothings,  and  how  they 
could  have  thought  themselves  lovers  with  the  reserves  which 
they  had  cherished  for  other  sympathies  and  admirations.  It 
served  them  as  a  lesson  in  the  capability  of  one  love  for  all  the 
interchanges  of  mind  and  heart,  and  taught  them  what  might 
have  been  deferred  till  it  was  far  more  difficult  to  lear-n — that  it 
is  lest  to  be  sure,  before  going  abroad  fur  new  varieties  of  happi 
ness,  that  the  material  for  what  we  desire  is  not  in  the  bosom  that 
already  belongs  to  us.  As  a  wife  to  the  poet  and  to  the  man, 
Lilian  easily  and  well  played  her  part,  and  it  was  hard  for  either 
to  tell  in  which  of  the  two  characters  of  the  other,  life  found  its 
more  urgent  want  replied  to. 


N.  P.  WILLIS9S  SSLSGT  WORKS,  fli  UNIFORM  I2MO.  VGLS, 

RURAL    LETTERS,    AND   OTHER    RECORDS    OF     THOUGHTS     AT 

LEISURE,  embracing  Letters  from  under  a  Bridge,  Open  Air  Musinga  in  the  Cityt 
"Invalid  Ramble  in  Germany,"  "Letters  from  Watering  Places,"  &c.,  &c.  1  vol 
Fourth  Edition. 

*  There  is  scarcely  a  page  In  it  in  which  the  reader  will  not  remember,  and  tnrn  to  again 
with  a  fresh  sense  of  delight  It  bears  the  imprint  of  nature  in  her  purest  and  most  joy 
ous  forms,  and  under  her  most  cheering  and  inspiring  influences." — 2f.  Y,  Tribune. 

"  If  we  would  show  how  a  modern  could  write  with  the  ease  of  Cowley,  most  gentle 
lover  of  nature's  gardens,  and  their  fitting  accessaries  from  life, -we  would  offer  this  volume 
as  the  best  proof  that  the  secret  has  not  yet  died  out." — Literary  World. 

PEOPLE  I    HAVE  MET,  or  Pictures  of  Society  and  People  of  Mark— drawn  under  a 
thin  veil  of  fiction.    By  N.  P.  WILLIS.    1  vol.,  12uio.    Third  Edition. 

"  It  is  a  collection  of  twenty  or  more  of  the  stories  which  have  blossomed  out  from  the 
Bummer  soil  of  the  author's  thoughts  within  the  last  few  years.  Each  word  in  some  of 
them  the  author  seems  to  have  picked  as  daintily,  for  its  richness  or  grace,  or  its  fine  fit 
ness  to  his  purpose,  as  if  a  humming-bird  were  picking  upon  his  quivering  wing  the 
flower  whose  sweets  he  would  lovingly  rifle,  or  a  belle  were  culling  the  stones  for  her 
bridal  necklace." — Jf.  Y.  Independent. 

"The  book'embraces  a  great  variety  of  personal  and  social  sketches  in  the  Old  World, 
end  concludes  with  some  thrilling  reminiscences  of  distinguished  ladies,  including  the 
Belles  of  New  York,  etc."—  Tfo  Republic. 

LIFE  HERE  AND  THERE,  or  Sketches  of  Society  and  Adventure  .at  far-apart  time* 
and  places.    By  H.  P.  WILLIS.    \  vol.,  12ino. 

"This  very  agreeable  volume  consists  of  sketches  of  life  and  adventure,  all  of  them,  the 
author  assures  us,  having  a  foundation  strictly  historical,  and  to  a  great  extent  autobiogra 
phical.  Such  of  these  sketches  as  we  have  read,  are  in  Mr.  Willis's  happiest  vein — a  vein, 
by  the  way,  in  which  he  is  unsurpassed." — SartaMn  Magazine. 

"  Few  readers  who  take  up  this  pleasant  volume  will  lay  it  aside  until  they  have  perused 
every  line  of  its  contents." — Jersey  Journal. 

HURRYGRAPHS,  orSketches  of  Scenery,  Celebrities,  and  Society,  taken  from^ife 
By  N.  P.  WILLIS.    1  voL,  12mo.    Third  Edition. 

"  Some  of  the  best  specimens  of  Mr.  Willis's  prose,  we  think,  are  herein  obtained."— 
2f.  Y.  Evangelist. 

"In  the  present  volume,  which  is  filled  with  allsorte  .">*  enticements,  we  prefei  the 
descriptions  of  nature  to  the  sketches  of  character,  and  tc«  tfusty  road-side  grows  delight 
ful  under  the  touches  of  Willis's  blossoming-dropping  pen ;  and  when  we  come  to  th« 
mountain  and  lake,  it  is  like  revelling  in  all  the  fragrant  odors  n"  far  *dia*.'%  -JBostot*  Atlas. 


- 


3.  T.  IIZADLLY'S  w3RKS. 

NAPOLEON  AND  HIS  MARSHALS.    By  J    T.  HEADLEY,  2  vols.  12rao.  aath 
gilt.     Illustrated  with  12  Portraits,  $2  50.    25th  Thousand. 

{ASHINGTON  AND  HIS  GENERALS.    By  J.  T.  HEADLEY,  2  vols.  12mo,  cloth 
filt     Illustrated  with  16  Portraits,  $2  50.    22d  Thousand. 

THE  SACRED  MOUNTAINS.    By  J.  T   HEADLEY, 

Illustrated  with  12  engravings,  by  Hurt,  with  designs  by  Lossing,  20th 

Thousand. 

Do.  do.  do.,  12mo,  cloth,  gilt,  $1  25 

SACRED  SCENES  AND  CHARACTERS.    By  J.  T.  HLADLEY, 

with  12  Illustrations.     Designed  by  Darley,          4th  Thousand. 
-Do-  do.  do.,  1  vol.  12mo.  cloth,  gilt,  $1  25. 

LETTERS  FROM  ITALY  AND  ALPS  AND  THE  RHINE.  By  .1.  T 
HEADLEY,  1  vol.  Kino,  cloth.  A  New  Edition.  Revised  and  Enlarged.  "With  a  Por 
trait  of  the  Author,  $1  13.  8th  Thousand. 

LIFE  OF  OLIVER  CROMWELL,  By  J.  T.  HEAULEY,  1  vol.  12mo.  c!oth,  gilt, 
with  Portrait,  $1  25.  6th  Thousand. 

HEADLEY'S  MISCELLANIES.  Authorized  Edition,  1  vol.  12tno,  cloth,  $1.  2d 
Thousand. 

ADIRONDACK;  OR  LIFE  IN  THE  WOODS.  Byj.  T.  HKADLEY,  with  origi- 

nal  Designs  from  G Ignore,  Ingham,  Duraiid,  etc.,  1  voL  12mo.  cloth,  $1  25.    4th  Thou 
sand. 

SKETCHES  AND  RAMBLES.  By  J.  T.  HEADLEY,  1  vol.  12mo.  cloth,  75c.  2d 
Thousand. 

THE  IMPERIAL  GUARD  OF  NAPOLEON.  From  Marengo  to  Waterloo.  By 
J  T.  HEADLEY,  1  voL  12mo.  with  Illustrations,  cloth,  $1  25.  Just  Published. 

J.  T.  HEADLEY'S  WORKS— Uniform  Edition,  12  vols.,  in  sheep,  for  Libraries  and 
District  Schools. 

"Mr.  Headley's  peculia  it:».s  as  an  author  are  nniverss'ly  known.  He  is  one  of  (be 
most  vigorous  and  spirit-stirring  w.'*ers  of  the  day,  especially  graphic  and  powerful  in 
narratives  of  exciting  events.  No  one  can  fail  to  get  from  his  descriptions  most  graphic, 
vivid,  and  lasting  impressions  of  the  scenes  of  which  he  speaks." — Jf.  Y.  Courier  and 
Enquirer. 

"  ifi- descriptions  are  graphic,  his  history  correct,  and  his  summing  up  character  scai  :ely 
suffers  by  a  comparison  with  similar  pages  in  Tacitus." — N.  Y.  Evening  Post. 

"He  speaks  heartily,  earnestly,  truthfully;  and  the  warm  heart  answers  to  his  voict." — 
y.  Y.  Observer. 

u  Each  one  of  his  Biographies  is  a  grand  historical  picture,  conveying  in  a  most  imp  •«•- 
sive  way,  a  true  idea  of  the  events  of  the  time." — Cincinnati  Herald. 

"  Mr.  Ilcadley  Is  truly  eloquent  in  his  description  of  character.  He  presents  to  VOP  th« 
strong  points  of  the  man  with  a  clearness  that  seems  to  place  him  before  you  as  an  old 
acquaintance." — Cleveland  Herald 

Whatever  critics  may  choose  to  say,  Mr.  H.  will  never  lack  readers.  The  stir  »[><*  fire 
of  his  descriptions  will  touch  a  popular  chord.  In  describing  the  battlo  field  h.  1,1 
tumultuous  stirring  life  of  the  camp,  Mr.  H.  is  what  Cooper  was  upon  the  Sea  A  A 
Sear  «&«t 


LIVING  ORATORS  OF  AMERICA.    By  Rev.  E.  L  MAGOON.    1  vol.  12mo.,  f  1th 
portraits.    Price,  $1  25. 

THE   ORATORS   OF  THE    AMERICAN    REVOLUTION;     By  Rev.   E.  L. 

MAGOON.    1  voL  12mo.,  with  portraits.    Price,  $1  25. 

Mr.  Magoon  is  a  decided  original  Both  his  thoughts  and  his  mannor  of  expressing 
them,  are  peculiar  and  striking. — Jf.  Y.  Evangelist. 

Mr.  Maroon,  who  is  a  vivid,  nervous  writer,  has  thrown  a  charm  around  the  character 
of  the  men  whose  history  he  has  delineated,  that  will  cause  the  book  to  bu  read  with  un 
usual  interest — Christian  Secretary. 

These  volumes  contain  exceedingly  clear  sketches  of  our  greatest  orators ;  co  arranged, 
contrasted  and  compared,  that  the  peculiar  powers  ami  excellencies  of  each  are  set  heforo 
the  mind  hi  a  strong  light — Springfield  Republican, 

Every  American  will  read  these  works  with  national  pride,  and  have  his  better  feelings 
and  sentiments  enkindled  and  strengthened. —  Western  Litvr<iry  Messenger. 

THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION.    By  Mrs.  E   F.  KLIJCT. 
8  vols.  12mo.,  with  portraits.    Price,  $3  50. 

The  work  fills  a  place  In  our  Revolutionary  history  that  would  scarcely  be  complete 
without  it;  indeed,  we  consider  it  as  one  of  the  most  valuable  contributions  that  have 
boon  made  to  the  history  of  our  country  in  a  long  time. — Hunt's  Magazine. 

We  counsel  especially  the  young  women  of  our  country  to  lay  aside  their  novels,  at 
least  until  they  shall  have  read  "The  Women  of  the  Revolution.'  Those  of  them  who 
bavo  seals  will  find  it  replete  with  Interest  and  instruction. — N.  II  Tribune. 

The  narratives  are  brief,  spirited,  and  profoundly  interesting;  especially  as  showins  how 
tbo  toils,  the  privations  and  dangers  of  the  war,  made  themselves  felt,  perhaps  even  more 
keenly,  in  the  homes  than  on  the  battle-fields  of  the  Revolutionary  champions. — J.V.  >. 
Commercial. 

The  authoress  has  succeeded  in  collecting  a  large  amount  of  new  and  important  facts, 
Illustrative  of  the  heroism  evinced  in  action  and  suffering,  by  the  women  who  bore  their 
part  in  the  Revolution,  which  have  no  place  in  the  political  histories  of  the  time,  and 
bavo  been  derived  almost  entirely  from  private  sources. — If.  Y.  Journal  of  Comm-erce. 

The  rich  store  of  information  contained  In  these  volumes,  has  been  procured  nt  the  cost 
of  much  and  laborious  research,  from  the  surviving  relatives  of  the  heroines,  scattered 
throuch  various  parts  of  the  Union.  Personal  recollections  have  been  recorded,  family 
papers  and  letters  examined,  and  the  work  thus  made  a  faithful  and  vivid  exhibition  of  the 
dementia  scenes  of  the  war.— Charleston  Jnquirer. 

The  conception  of  the  book  Is  at  once  beautiful  and  patriotic,  and  its  execution  is 
worthy  of  its  subject,  and  worthy  of  the  reputation  of  its  gifted  authoress— Albany  Atl<i«. 

These  sketches  are  of  thrilling  interest,  as  we  gather  from  a  hasty  glance  at  their  page*. 
Tta  narrative  is  clear,  concise,  atd  very  agreeably  written.—  N.  B.  Mercury. 


THE  PLANETARY  AND  STELLAR  WORLDS;  A  Popular  Exposition  of  th« 
Great  Discoveries  and  Theories  of  Modern  Astronomy.    In  a  Series  of  Ten  Lecture? 
By  ProC  O.  M.  MITCHELL.    1  voL  12mo.    Price,  $1  25. 

For  a  practical,  comprehensive  exposition  «f  tlie  principles  of  astronomy,  as  they  ar 
now  understood,  no  better  work  can  be  found.  Written  in  a  glowing  style,  the  grei 
principles  and  facts  of  the  science  are  stated  in  that  popular  language  which  every  read( 
can  understand,  and  which  presents  the  author  s  thoughts  in  the  clearest  manner.  Fo. 
the  use  of  schools,  and  for  private  reading,  we  think  it  will  win  its  way  at  once  to  an  uni 
Tersal  popularity.  It  is  illustrated  by  a  series  of  admirable  engraving  which  add,  01 
course,  incomparably  to  the  excellence  and  utility  of  the  work.— Neia  York  Evangelist. 

In  itself  considered,  this  is  one  of  the  most  Interesting,  entertaining,  instructive  and 
valuable  works  that  we  have  perused  in  many  a  day.  "We  have  read  it  with  fee.inirs  <rlo*v 
Ing  more  and  more  with  the  finishing  of  every  page ;  and  have  longed  to  put  H  into  the 
band  of  every  inhabitant  of  earth  whose  soul  leaps  after  the  systems  of  worlds  and  suns 
which  circle  above  him,  and  onward  to  Immortality  and  heaven.— Spectator. 

The  work  gives  a  most  admirable  popular  exposition  of  the  great  discoveries  and 
theories  of  modern  astronomy,  and  cannot  fail  to  be  universally  re^d  witli  the  greatest 
profit  and  delight  We  commend  it  to  attention  and  favor. — Courier  and  Enquirer. 

The  work  throughout  displays  a  most  familiar  and  extensive  knowledge  of  the  subjects 
of  which  it  treats,  and  is  written  in  a  style  of  glowing  eloquence  that  is  in  accordance  with 
the  magnificent  scenes  and  objects  which  it  describes.— American.  Literary  Magazine. 

LECTURES  ON  SHAKSPEARE.    By II.  N.  HUDSON.    2  vols.,  12mo.    Price,  $2  50. 

Many  of  the  lectures  have  been  re-written  a  dozen  times ;  and  probably  few  books  of 
the  size  ever  published  In  the  country,  have  been  the  slow  product  of  so  much  toil  of 
analysis  and  research.  Almost  every  sentence  gives  evidence  of  being  shaped  in  tho 
"forge  and  working-house  of  thought"  All  questions  which  rise  naturally  in  the  progress 
of  tiie  work  are  sturdily  met  and  answered,  however  great  may  be  their  demand  on  the 
Intellect  or  the  time  of  the  author.  Everything  considered,  subtilty,  depth,  force,  bril 
liancy,  comprehension,  we  know  of  no  work  of  criticism  ever  produced  in  the  Uniied 
States  which  equals  the  present,  either  In  refinement  and  profundity  of  thought,  or  splen 
dor  and  intensity  of  expression.  Indeed,  none  of  our  critics  have  devoted  so  much  time  HS 
Mr.  Hudson  to  one  subjeet,  or  been  content  to  confine  themselves  so  rigidly  to  the  central 
6nn  of  our  English  literary  system.  We  doubt,  also,  if  there  be  any  work  on  Slmkspear*, 
produced  on  the  other  side  ef  the  Atlantic  which  is  so  complete  as  the  present  in  all  which 
relates  to  Shikspeare's  mind  and  character.  It  not  only  comprehend  the  highest  results 
of  Shaksperian  criticism,  but  it  is  a  step  forward. — Graham? t  Magazine, 

They  are  the  work  of  a  man  of  an  original  turn  of  thinking  and  expression,  and  are  fuli 
of  brilliant  thoughts,  and  acute,  often  novel  speculations. — Evening  Post. 

They  contain,  on  the  whole,  the  most  satisfactory  estimate  of  this  prince  of  the  drama 
to  be  found  in  our  language.  The  stvle  In  which  they  are  written  is  unusually  chaste  and 
beautiful,  and  the  writer  has  so  entrenched  himself  In  the  very  soul  of  his  subject,  thit 
there  seems  to  be  a  perfect  community  of  thought,  feeling,  even  pulsation. — Albany  Atlas. 

Mr.  Hudson  has  here  brought  together  not  only  ail  the  authentic  toots  that  have  come 
down  to  us  in  reirard  to  the  life  and  character  of  Shakspeare,  but  all  the  really  valuable 
criticisms  that  throw  light  upon  his  intellectual  history  and  his  moral  and  intellectua 
character. — Boston  Evening  Transcript. 

We  regard  It  as  decidedly  the  ablest  and  most  valuable  boo'c  of  criticism  ever  published 
IB  this  countf  j  -  •Couritr  and  Enquirer 


LECTURES  ON  ART— AND  POEMS.  By  WASHINGTON  ALLSTON.  Edited  )>y 
Eichard  Henry  Dana,  Jr.  Contents — Lectures  on  Art,  pages  3-167— Aphorisms,  sen 
tences  written  by  Mr.  Allstou  on  the  walls  of  his  Studio,  pages  167-179 — The  Hypo 
chondriac,  pages  179-199— Poems,  pages  199-317.  1  voL  liimo.  Trice,  $1  25. 

"There  is  a  store  of  intellectual  wealth  in  this  handsome  volume.  It  is  a  book  of 
thought  Its  contents  are  the  rich  and  tasteful  productions  of  the  scholar  and  artist,  wb« 
bad  mind  to  perceive  and  skill  to  portray  much  that  is  unseen  by  ordinary  mi  ads,  as  well 
us  intelligence  and  power  to  exhibit  whatever  is  grand  and  beautiful  both  in  the  physical 
and  moral  world." — Christian  Observer. 

"These  oro  the  records  of  one  of  the  purest  spirits  and  most  exalted  geniuses  of  which 
tliis  country  can  boast.  The  intense  love  of  the  beautiful,  the  purity,  grace  and  gentleness 
which  made  him  incomparably  the  finest  artist  of  the  age,  lend  their  charm  and  their 
power  to  these  productions  of  his  pen.  *  *  *  There  are  in  his  poems  feeling,  delicacy, 
taste,  and  the  keenest  sense  of  harmony  which  render  them  faultless.'' — JV.  Y.  Evangelist. 

"  As  a  writer  we  know  of  no  one  who  in  his  writings  has  exhibited  such  an  appreciation 
of  what  constitutes  beauty  in  art,  correctness  in  form,  or  the  true  principles  of  composi 
tion." — Providence  Journal. 

"  We  commend  them  to  the  intellectual  and  the  thoughtful,  for  we  know  that  no  one 
can  read  them  without  being  wiser,  and  w«  believe  the  better." — Albany  State  Register. 

"  The  production  of  a  most  ethereal  spjrit  instinctively  awake  to  all  the  harmonies  of 
creation." — Albany  Argus. 

"The  exquisitely  pure  and  lofty  character  of  the  author  of  these  lectures  and  poetic 
fragments  is  well  expressed  in  them.  It  gave  their  structure  a  freshness  and  calmness, 
and  their  tone  a  purity  that  remain  to  charm  us,  and  that  are  equally  admirable  and  de 
lightful."— TVwi  Independent 

"His  lectures  possess  great  attractions  for  every  one  aiming  at  cultivation  of  mind  and 
refinement  of  taste,  while  his  poems,  which  elicited  so  high  praise  when  published  singly, 
are  sure  to  receive  it  when  as  now  embodied  in  a  more  classic  form." — Natcliez  Courier. 

u  The  lovers  of  American  literature  and  art  will  rejoice  in  the  possession  of  these  ma 
tured  fruits  of  the  genius  which  seemed  alike  skilled  in  the  use  of  the  pen  and  pencil" — 
Newark  Daily  Advertiser. 


POEMS  AND  PROSE  WRITINGS.    By  KICIIAED  HENEY  DANA.    2  vols.  12mo. 

Trice,  |2  50. 

"Mr. "Dana's  writings  are  addressed  to  readers  of  thonght,  sensibility  and  experience. 
By  tenderness,  by  force,  in  purity,  the  poet  paints  the  world,  treading  in  safety  the  dizziest 
verge  of  passion,  through  all  things,  honorable  to  all  men  ;  the  just  style  resolving  all  per 
plexities,  a  rich  instruction  and  solace  in  theso  volumes  to  the  young  and  old  who  are  to 
come  hereafter." — Literary  World. 

"Mr.  Dana  is  evidently  a  close  observer  of  nature,  and  therefore  his  thoughts  are  origi 
nal  and  fresh." — True  Democrat. 

"  In  addition  to  the  Poems  and  Trose  Writings  included  in  the  former  edition  of  his 
works,  they  contain  some  short,  practical  pieces,  and  a  number  of  reviews  and  essays  con 
tributed  to  different  periodicals,  some  of  them  as  much  as  thirty  years  sin  :c,  and  now  re- 
published  for  the  first  time — as  the  expression  of  the  Inmost  soul,  these  writings  bear  • 
strong  stamp  cf  originality."—  N.  Y.  Tribune. 


RURAL  HOMES;  OB, SKETCHES  Or  HOUSES  suited  to  American  Country  Life. 
With  over  70  Original  Plans,  Designs,  &c.  By  GEKVASK  WIIEELKR.  1  voL  12uio. 
Price,  $1,25. 

It  commences  with  the  flrst  foot-tread  upon  the  spot  choscu  for  the  house;  details  th« 
considerations  that  should  weigh  in  selecting  the  site;  gives  models  of  nuiMinsrs  diUVriMg 
In  character,  extent,  and  cost*;  shows  how  to  harmonize  the  building  with  the  surrounding 
s.-eiicry ;  teaches  now  healthfully  to  warm  and  ventilate;  assists  in  selecting  furniture  and 
tbe  innumerable  articles  of  utility  and  ornament  used  in  constructing  and  finishing,  and 
concludes  with  final  practical  directions,  giving  useful  limits  as  to  drawing  up  written  Je- 
ecriptions,  specifications  and  contracts. 

"  In  this  neat  and  tasteful  volume,  Mr.  Wheeler  has  condensed  the  results  of  an  accom 
plished  training  in  his  art,  and  the  liberal  professional  practice  of  it 

"  "We  can  confidently  recommend  this  elaborate  production  to  the  attention  of  <rrnt!c- 
men  who  ar*  about  building  oc  renovating  their  country  houses,  to  professional  architects, 
and  to  all  readers  of  discrimination,  who  wish  to  know  what  is  truly  eloquent  in  this  U-uu- 
tifnl  art,  and  to  cultivate  a  taste  worthy  to  cope  with  "judgment  of  wisest  censure." 

"The  cost  of  such  establishments  is  carefully  considered,  no  less  than  the  comforts  they 
should  afford,  the  display  they  can  (honestly)  pretend  to,  and  all  the  adjuncts  that  go  to 
complete  tho  ideal  of  a  convenient  and  elegant  mansion." — AT.  Y.  Mirror. 

"It  is  extremely  practical,  containing  such  simple  and  comprehensive  directions  for  all 
wishing  at  any  time  to  buiM,  being  in  fact  the  sum  of  the  author's  study  and  ex|H!rionw  as 
an  architect  for  many  years." — Albany  Spectator. 

"  Mr.  Wheeler's  remarks  convey  much  practical  and  useful  information,  evincn  good 
taste  and  a  proper  appreciation  of  the  beautiful,  and  no  one  should  build  a  rural  house 
without  flrst  hearing  what  ho  has  to  recommend." — Philadelphia  Pre»T>ytti-i<tn. 

"  Important  in  its  subject,  careful  and  ample  in  its  details,  and  charmingly  attractive  in 
Its  style.  It  gives  all  the  information  that  would  he  desired  as  to  the  selection  of  sites— 
the  choice  of  appropriate  styles,  tho  particulars  of  plans,  materials,  fences,  gateways,  furni 
ture,  wanning,  ventilation,  specifications,  contracts,  Ac.,  concluding  with  a  chapter  on  the 
Intellectual  and  moral  effect  of  rural  architecture," — Hartford  Rtliyiou*  Uerakl. 

"A  book  very  much  needed,  for  it  teaches  people  how  to  build  comfortable,  sensible, 
beautiful  country  bouses.  Its  conformity  to  common  sense,  as  well  as  to  the  sense  4 
beauty,  cannot  be  too  much  commended." — 2f.  Y.  Courier  &  Enquirer, 

"No  person  can  read  this  book  without  gaining  much  useful  knowledge,  and  It  will  be  a 
great  aid  to  those  who  intend  to  build  houses  for  their  own  use.  It  is  scientific  without 
being  so  interlarded  with  technical  terms  as  to  confuse  the  reader,  and  contains  all  the  in- 
formatum  necessary  to  build  a  house  from  the  cellar  to  the  nd^e  pole.  It  is  a  parlor  book, 
or  a  book  for  the  workshop,  and  will  be  valuable  in  either  place." — Bujfitlo  Commi'r  <-i,ii. 

"This  work  should  le  in  the  hands  of  every  one  who  contemplates  building  for  himse'f 
•  home.  It  is  filled  with  beautifully  executed  elevations  and  plans  of  country  houses  from 
the  most  unpretending  eottatro  to  the  villa.  Its  contents  are  simple  and  comprehensiva, 
embnioiiiir  every  variety  of  house  usually  needed." — Loir, /I  OouHi  /: 

"To  all  who  desire  a  delightful  rnral  retreat  of  "lively  enttac^ly"  of  irettins  a  fair  «»qniv- 
alent  of  comfort  and  taste-fulness,  for  a  moderate  outlay,  wo  commend  the  Kural  Homes  of 
Mr.  Wheeler."— A'  Y  Eefiiing  Post. 


MARVEL'S 


EDITION  or 

REVERIES  OF  A  BACHELOR,  a  Book  of  the  Heart.     By  IK.  MARVEL.    1  nil 

12mo.,  with  Illustrations  by  DAULF.Y. 

The  Illustrated  Edition,  with  Twenty-five  Illustrations,  will  be  road/  about  the  iniddla 
of  October. 

"  Qnotations  give  but  a  faint"  idea  of  the  depth  of  feeling,  the  beantifal  and  winning 
frankness,  the  elastic  vigor  of  soul,  and  the  singular  fidelity  of  expression  which  charac 
terize  this  remarable  volume.  Its  quaint  ingenuity  of  arringement  is  wholly  lost  in 
extracts;  and  in  order  to  enjoy  the  delicious  adaptation  of  form  to  sentiment  in  which  it 
would  be  hard  to  name  its  equal,  it  must  be  read  as  a  consummate,  artistic,  gem-like 
•whole."—  X  Y.  Tribune. 

"The  dreamy,  shadowy  haze  of  reverie,  Its  fleet  transitions,  Its  vivid  and  startling  pas 
sages  —  more  vivid,  oftentimes,  than  anything  of  real  life  —  are  admirably  reproduced  on 
these  delicate  pages.  The  dense  and  deliberate  style,  though  nowise  itself  dreamy  and 
insubstantial,  dealing  largely  rather  ir.  the  tongh  and  oaken  Saxon,  that  makes  the  strength 
of  our  hardy  tongue,  is  adapted  with  admirable  pliancy  to  the  movement  and  tone  of  the 
fancy.  There  are  passages  in  it  —  as  those  descriptive  of  early  separations,  schooldays  and 
their  sequel  —  that  will  start  the  memory,  with  a  quick  throb,  in  many  hearts.  And  there 
aro  essential  and  permanent  qualities  exhibited  in  it,  both  of  intellect  and  of  sensibility, 
that  give  noble  promise  of  a  future,  and  that  will  make  the  subsequent  publications  of  the 
author  events  to  be  watched  for."  —  Independent. 

The  writer  who  can  lure  a  few  of  his  fellow  mortals  away  from  the  bustle,  and 
the  strife,  and  the  fret,  and  the  wear  and  tear  of  a  restless  existence  —  who  can  plant  them 
In  his  own  quiet  arm-chair,  and  think  a  Sittle  for  them  so  easily  and  so  cosily  that  they 
shall  fancy  his  thoughts  to  be  their  own  soliloquies  —  who  can  carry  them  off  from  the 
engrossing  present,  backward  to  the  fullness  of  youth,  or  forward  to  the  repose  of  age  — 
vho  can  peel  off,  here  and  there,  the  worldly  rind  that  grUws  ever-thickening  over  the 
heart,  growing  fastest  and  thickest  in  the  hothouses  of  fashion,  and  in  the  rank  soil  of 
wealth  —  the  writer,  we  say,  who  can  do  this  —  Mr.  Ik.  Marvel  decs  it  in  his  Reveries  —  shall 
be  welcomed  to  a  place  in  our  regards,  and  cordially  recommended  to  oui  readers'  book- 
•helves."  —  Albion. 

"  This  is  a  pleasant  and  clever  book  ;  racy,  genial,  lively  and  sparkling.  It  is  a  book  to 
put  one  in  good  humor  with  himself  and  all  the  world."  —  SoutJiern  Literary  Gazette. 

"It  is  an  exquisite  production,  the  like  of  which  the  press  has  not  produced  in  this 
country  or  in  England.  Portions  of  it  remind  ns  forcibly  of  some  of  the  old,  and  almost 
unknown  French  authors,  whose  sketches  >f  thought  and  feeling  we  have  never  seen 
equalled  for  delicacy  and  truth,  until  we  »i>ad  these  Reveries.  The  book  is  especially 
welcome  as  one  of  a  new  class  in  this  country,  which  appeals  to  all  the  finer  feelings  of  the 
heart."  —  Journal  of  Commerce. 

""Well  has  the  author  called  it  a  book  of  the  heart  Not  of  a  Jieart  withered  by  selfish 
ness,  mistaking  disappointment  for  sorrow,  r>.<itred  of  the  world's  joys  for  philosophic  con 
tempt  ;  but  a  generous,  noble  heart,  that  has  sorrowed  as  we  have  sorrowed,  that  can  echo 
back  from  the  distant  hills  of  its  own  experience  our  own  cries  —  now  cf  joy,  now  oi  giiel 
and  our  songs  oi  quiet  happiness."  —  2f.  Y.  Courier  and'  Inquirer. 


DREAM  LIFE :  A  Fable  of  the  Seasons.    By  IK.  MABVBL.    1  vol.  12mo. 

A  charmingly  designed  and  beautifully  written  book.  It  will  add  to  his  pi  jvious  repu 
tation. —  The  Church/nan. 

It  is  written  in  the  same' vein  as  the  "Reveries  of  a  Bachelor,"  by  the  same  ai*hor,  but 
la  on  the  whole  a  better  book.— Jf.  Y.  Daily  Times. 

FRESH  GLEANINUS,oraNewSleai  from  the  Oil  Field  ot  ContirentalEnroi  a  By 
IK.  MABVEL.    1  voL,  12mo. 

"This  book  should  be  read  by  all  who  can  appreciate  a  style  fall  of  grace,  In  a  fanposl 
lion  replete  with  original  and  striking  thoughts." — Boston  Journal. 

"Agreeable,  quaint,  humorous,  philosophical,  pathetic,  charming,  glorious  Ik.  Marvel! 
It  is  as  refreshing  to  the  mind,  wearied  with  the  thrice-told  insipidities  01'  continental 
travel  to  dip  into  his  fresh  sparkling  pages,  as  a  plunge,  this  hot  weather,  into  tbe  cold, 
diamond,  deer-haunted  waters  of  some  mountain  lake.  "We  have  turned  over  his  soft, 
thick,  dainty  pages,  and  our  eye  has  glided  along  the  stream  of  his  bright  descriptions, 
pleasant  thoughts,  humorous  expressions,  and  characters  painted  with  a  lew  light  touches, 
like  daguerreotype  portraits — very  Sterne-like  and  exceedingly  fine— until  arriving  at  the 
end  we  are  startled  at  the  rapidity  with  which  the  fret  of  Time,  flower-muffled,  have  trod 
den." — Albany  Atlas. 

"A  series  of  the  liveliest,  newest,  most  taking  and  most  graphic  sketches  of  out  of  tbe 
way  scenes,  character  and  incidents,  that  were  ever  done  up  between  a  pair  of  bookbinder's 
covers."—  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"  This  Is  decidedly  the  most  agreeable  book  of  the  season.  It  reminds  one  by  an  occa- 
siona!  association  of  ideas,  rather  than  resemblance,  of  imitation  of  Sterne's  Sentimental 
Journey,  and  some  of  Longfellow's  transatlantic  sketches ;  but  its  freshness,  its  variety, 
graphic  descriptive  power,  and  genial  sympathies,  are  all  its  own." — Buffalo  Advertiser.  . 

TrJE  BATTLE  SUMMER.    Being  Transcripts  faom  Personal  Observation  in  Paris 
during  the  year  1S4S.    By  IE.  MASVEU    With  Illustrations  by  DAKLEY.    1  vol.,  12ui9 

"  It  Is  a  series  of  pictures — sketches  of  scenes  which  passed  under  the  author's  eye.  It 
Is  most  ably  done,  and  shows  tbe  hand  of  one  gifted  with  genius  and  destined  to  make  his 
nark  on  the  literature  of  his  country." — N.  T.  Courier  and  Enquirer 

u  The  book  Is  filled  with  a  series  of  pictures  and  sketches  more  graphic  It  would  be  diffl 
ealt  to  find."— New  York  Recorder. 

"Like  a  talented  and  enthusiastic  artist,  he  placed  himself  in  toe  best  positions,  and 
caught  the  lineaments  of  each  scene  to  be  transferred  to  his  canvas.  *  *  *  lu  trutli,  h« 
has  furnished  a  gallery  of  portraits  which  are  very  liie  like." — Pre&yteria.'n. 

"  An  elaborate  history  would  fail  to  convey  so  vivid  and  truthful  a  conception  oi  the 
rise,  progress  and  manner  of  the '  second  reign  of  terror'  as  is  to  be  obtained  from  this  work.' 
—Portland  Transcript. 

"  It  Is  by  far  the  most  able  and  most  Impressive  account  ot  the  scenes  fa  Paris,  and 
reveals  a  power  of  description  that  will  give  the  author  a  tame." — *V.  Y.  Evangelist. 

IK.  MARVEL'S  WORKS.    Uniform  voluro<a.    Style  for  Libraries, 


LIEUT.  LYNGH'S  NEW  WORK. 

NAVAL   LJFE— THE   MIDSHIPMAN;  or  Observations  Afloat  and  Ashore.    By 
LI«UT.  W.  F.  LYNOII,  autnor  of  "  Dead  Sea  Expedition."    1  vol.  12mo.    Price,  $1. 

"The  style  is  spirited  and  commanding,  tie  matter  of  the  most  exciting  character,  and 
tilt  deductions  often  drawn  from  incident  and  adventure  worthy  of  the  head  and  tho  heart 
of  the  author." — American  Spectator. 

"Amid  the  rollicking  and  exciting  scenes,  so  characteristic  of  a  life  on  the  ocean  wave* 
the  author  has  introduced  others  of  a  more  subdued  kind — passages  here  and  there  of 
touching  pathos — little  gushings  from  the  fount  of  a  chastened  and  sensitive  nature,  be 
traying  a  heart  susceptible  to  the  higher  and  better  feelings  that  adorn  and  dignify  man." 
—  Weekly  JSclectic. 

"  The  adventures  he  and  his  shipmates  met  with  in  various  quarters  of  the  globe,  are 
narrated  in  an  unpretending  style,  but  with  graphic  power.  Several  of  these  narrations 
are  of  exciting  interest,  and  they  so  closely  follow  each  other,  that  the  reader  will  find  it 
Impossible  to  lay  down  the  book  until  he  has  reached  the  last  page." — Portland  Tran- 

BCl'ijit. 

"  This  is  a  delightful  matter-of-fact  volume,  tor  which  we  predict  a  great  many  readers." 
— Christian  Intelligencer. 

"  It  is  a  work  which  docs  credit  to  the  moral  and  literary  character  of  the  navy." — N. 
Y.  Evangelist. 

"  It  is  well  written,  avoiding  coarseness  and  slang,  and  will  be  a  pleasant  companion  for 
the  winter  evenings." — Cincinnati  Ilerald. 

"The  author  has  a  great  variety  of  experience,  and  he  has  made  out  of  it  not  only  an 
agreeable  but  instructive  book." — Albany  Argun. 

"  It  is  lilled  with  lively  portraitures  of  naval  life,  and  must  be  read  with  interest  both 
by  seamen  and  landsmen." — N.  Y.  Tribune. 

"This  is  a  pleasing  book,  abundantly  teeming  with  the  thrilling  jasimlties  of  'hair 
breadth  'scapes'  which  beset  the  paths  of  those  who  plough  the  enehafcd  bosom  of  the 
deep,  and  is  strikingly  characterized  by  the  winning  graces  of  modesty  of  tone  and  a  i«- 
tiued  simplicity  of  narration." —  Washington  Republic. 


ANNALS  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  SPAIN.    By  ANITA  GEOEGK    2  vote.  12mo. 
Price,  $2  50. 

"Of  the  manner  in  which  she  has  performed  her  task,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  she  baa 
won  the  distinguished  commendation  of  Wm.  II.  Prescott ' — N.  Y.  Evangelist. 

"Mrs.  George  follows  steadily  the  highway  of  her  subject  without  diverging  to  any  by 
paths  of.  speculation  and  illustration.  Her  object  appears  to  be,  to  give  as  much  informa 
tion  as  possible  in  small  compass,  in  which  she  succeeds." — Literary  World. 

"The  authoress  has  worked  her  way  throuah  the  scattered  rubbish  of  the  past  and  pro 
duced  a  work  of  immediate  and  lasting  interest" — Bangor  Courier. 

"The  work  is  written  in  a  clear  and  vivacious  style,  and  Is  an  accession  to  the  popular 
literature."— Prairie  Herald. 


HERBERT'S  NEW  WORK. 

THE  CAPTAINS   OF  THE   OLD  WORLD— Their  Campaigns— Character,  and 

Conduct  as  compared  with  the  great  modern  Strategists — From  the  I 'union  Wars  to 
the  end  of  the  Roman  Republic.  By  HEN  BY  W.  HEKBEKT.  1  voL  12uio.,  with  illus 
trations,  cloth.  Price,  $1  25. 

COME.NTS.— The  Military  Art  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans— Miltiades,  the  KOI  ofCl- 
mon— His  battle  of  Marathon — Themistocles,  his  sea-light  off  Salamis,  <fec. — 1'ausanias, 
the  Spartan ;  his  battle  of  I'lataia,  «fec. — Xenophon,  the  Athur:ia:i ;  nis  retreat  of  tho 
Ten  Thousand.  &c. — Kpaminondas,  his  Campaigns,  battle  of  Leuktra  and  Mantineli.— 
Alexander  of  Macedon,  his  battles  of  the  Granikos,  Issos,  and  Arbela,  tfcc.  -Hannibal, 
ln»  !>att;es  of  the  i  icinus,  Trebbia,  1  hrasymene,  and  Canae. 

"The  tlieme  is  full  of  interest,  to  which  Mr.  Herbert's  known  literary  ability  and  c!ax-i- 
<~ll  taste  may  be  expected  to  give  due  exposition.  The  work  is  an  original  one — the  ma 
terial  of  which  he  claims  to  derive,  not  from  modern  books,  but  from  the  ancient  authentic 
sources  of  history  which  he  has  examined  for  himself." — U.  8,  Gazette  &  -A".  American, 

"Mr.  Herbert  has  succeeded  admirably— and  has  produced  a  work  that  will  entitle  him 
to  a  high  rank  with  the  best  authors  of  his  native  and  his  adopted  country." — Syracuae 
Star. 

"The  exploits  of  those  captains  are  detailed,  whose  achievements  exerted  the  most 
powerful  influence  on  the  destinies  of  tho  world.  The  author  is  a  well-read  historian,  und 
lias  contemplated  the  events  lie  describes  with  the  eye  of  a  philosopher  and  scholar."— 
P'uliK/cljtkiit  Pren:  yterian. 

"This  is  a  powerful  and  brilliant  delineation  of  the  captains  of  the  Old  World— it  opens 
with  tire  three  great  Wars  of  Greece,  and  traces  the  course  of  Hannibal  in  the  most  capti 
vating  style."1—  Albany  Spectator. 

"To  a  nervous  and  pointed  style  the  author  adds  the  research  of  a  scholar  and  the  en- 
thi.M.-u-iH  of  a  man  of  action.  The  strategies  of  warfare — the  arming  of  troops,  and  the 
Btern  conflicts  of  man  with  man,  are  of  course  congenial  subjects  to  one  whose  knowledge 
cf  skill  in  woodcraft  is  proverbial,  and  Mr.  Herbert  consequently  enters  into  them  with 
gusto  and  with  clearness  of  perception," — Tfie  Albion. 

"This  volume  which  is  intended  to  be  the  first  of  a  series,  Includes  reven  of  the  greatest 
generals  of  antiquity,  beginning  with  .V  iltiades  and  ending  with  Hannibal.  The  facts  are  all 
drawn  fro;n  the  most  authentic  sources,  and  the  characters  displayed  with  uncommon 
skill  anil  effect  It  was  a  bright  thought,  the  bringing  together  of  these  illustrious  name* 
In  one  group." — Albany  Argus. 

"The  writer  draws  a  comparison  between  them  and  the  jrreat  modern  strategists,  and 
gives  an  exceedingly  interesting  and  graphic  picture  of  the  celebrated  conflicts  of  olden 
times  from  the  Persian  wars  to  the  I'unic  wars."— JV.  Y.  Observer, 

"This  is  an  unique  and  able  work.  It  displays  sound  and  varied  scholarship,  united 
With  a  knowledge  of  the  military  art  rarefy  possessed  by  a  civilian.  There  is  a  truth  and 
-  .ibotit  the  descriptions  that  show  the  author  to  be  no  second-hand  compiler,  but 
one  -vho  has  drawn  his  knowledge  from  a  careful  study  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  historians 
In  their  native  garb.  We  would  recommend  this  work  to  the  attention  of  the  youn;:  stu 
dent,  :ts  a  better  manual  of  antiquities  relative  to  the  military  art,  than  any  set  treatise  on 
th?  subject,  while  its  views  of  historical  epovhs  and  political  relations  are  equally  valuable 
and  trn-l  worthy.  His  aivt'ysis  of  the  character  and  strategy  >f  ihe  Tuat  Ciptiy'n.-i  of  act) 
fuiiy  U  full  of  interest  and  instruction.''—  A'.  Y.  Kecvi'der. 


BRACE'S  HUNGARY  IN  1851:    With  an  Experience  of  the  Austrian  Police.    By 
GHAKLES  LOKINO  BHACE.    (Beautifully  illustrated,  with  a  map  of  Hungary). 

"  Upon  the  particular  field  of  Hungary,  this  is  by  far  the  most  complete  and  reliable 
work  in  the  language;  a  work  that  all  should  read  who  would  understand  Uie  institutions, 
the  character,  and  the  spirit  of  a  people  who  just  now  have  so  urgent  a  claim  on  our  sym 
pathy." — Jf.  F.  Independent. 

'  There  is  probably  not  a  work  within  the  reach  of  the  English  scholar  that  can  afford 
him  sud:  a  satisfactory  view  of  Hungary  as  it  now  is.  as  this  work  of  A'.r.  Lracc." — Chris- 
tinn  Intelligencer. 

"It  will  not  disappoint  public  expectation.  It  bears  the  strongest  evidence  of  being 
most  reliable  in  its  descriptions  and  facts." — Boston  Journal. 

"  We  have  seldom  taken  in  hand  a  book  which  bears  the  reader  along  with  <in  interest 
so  intense  and  sustained.'" —  Watchman  and  Reflector. 

"  It  is  a  graphic  picture  of  the  people  and  institutions  of  Hungary  at  the  present  moment 
by  one  who  writes  what  he  saw  and  heard,  and  who  was  well  qualified  10  judge." — Troy 
Daily  Post. 

"  lie  mingled  much  in  the  social  life  of  every  class  of  the  Hungarian  people,  and  there 
can  be  no  question  that  he  has  presented  a  faithful  picture  of  the  condition,  manners,  cus 
toms,  and  feelings  of  the  Magyars." — Portland  Transcript. 

"  The  best  and  most  reliable  work  that  we  possess,  in  regard  to  Hungary  as  it  now  Is, 
and  the  only  one  written  from  personal  observation.'1 — Phil.  Evening  Bulletin. 

"  It  tells  us  precisely  what  the  mass  of  readers  wish  to  know  in  regard  to  the  condition 
of  Hungary  since  the  Revolution.  Having  travelled  over  large  portions  of  the  country  on 
foot,  and  mingling  freely  with  the  inhabitants  in  their  houses,  the  author  relates  his  various 
expi'riun'-es,  many  of  .which  are  sufficiently  strange  to  figure  in  a  romance" — N~.  Y.  Tri 
bune. 

"  This  book  is  exceedingly  entertaining.  These  are  clear,  unambitious  narratives,  sound 
views,  and  abundant  information.  \Ve  get  a  perspicuous  view  of  the  peop'e,  life,  and 
character  of  the  country;  and  learn  more  of  the  real  condition  of  things  than  we  could  else 
where  obtain." — JV  Y.  Evangelist. 

"Its  mrrative  is  fluent  and  graceful,  and  gives  the  most  vivid  and  complete,  and  tho 
most  r'lithful  picture  of  Hungary  ever  presented  to  American  readers." — Courier  and 

InH'tirer. 

"  For  gr:  phic  delineation,  and  extent  of  knowledge  of  the  subject  described,  ?Tr.  Brace 
has  119  equal,  at  least  in  print"— The  Columbian  and  far  West. 

"  We  h  tve  read  it  carefully,  and  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  it  presents  a  complete 
idea  of  Hungary  and  her  people  as  they  were  and  are.  Mr.  Brace  has  the  happy  and  rf.rs 
f.iculty  of  making  the  reader  see  what  he  saw,  and  feel  what  he  felt"—  The  Eclectic. 

"  He  has  succeeded  in  gathering  the  fullest  and  most  satisfactory  amount  of  information 
In  regard  to  Hungary  that  we  have  seen.  His  description  of  the  Hungarian  Church  and 
the  religious  character  of  the  people  are  especially  interesting,  tmd  the  whole  volume  is  a 
valuable  addition  to  our  knowledge  of  the  interior  of  Europe." — Watchman  and  Oli- 
serrer. 

"This  excellent  work  is  not  one  of  proesy  details  and  dry  statistics,  but  is  composed  of 
the  hi'ist  familiar  and  intimate  glimpses  of  Hungarian  life,  written  in  the  most  graceful 
style."—*  Wot'ceater  Spy 


THE    FRUIT  GARDEN.     BKWMTO   EDITION.     A   Treatise  Intended  to  fllnstnrfa 
and   explain   the   Physiology  of    Fruit   Trees,    tlie   Theory   anil    Practice   of  al) 
operiiions  connected  with  the  Propagation,  Transplanting,  Pruning  and  Trail,  i-i-r  ->! 
Orcl.ard  and  Garden  Trees,  as  Standards,  Dwarfs,  Pyramids,  Kspalii  •!•-, 
out    and    arranging    different    kinds    of  Orchards    and   Garden*,  tlie    selection    »f 
suitable   vari-.tics    for    different  purposes    and    localities,    gathcrii.ir    nn.1     pre.-ei-v 
Ing   Frui'js,   Treatment  of  Disease,   Destruction   of  Insects.      Dcst  •<•'.[>: 
of  Implement1:.  >fce.,  illus:  rated  with  upward  of  one  hundred  ard  1.: 
Ing  different  parts  of  Trees,  all  Practical  Operations,   Forms  of  Ti\. 
Plantations,  Implements,  &c.     By  P.  1'arry,  of  the  Mount  Hope  Nurseries.  Ko,  IH-SUT 
Ke\r  York.    1  voL  1  2  mo. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  most  thorough  works  of  the  kind  we  have  ever  seen,  dealing  in  particular 
(t£  well  as  geno-alitie,s,  and  imparting  many  valuable  hints  relative  to  soil,  manures  pruning 
and  transplanting."  —  Boston  Gazette. 

"A  mass  of  useful  infoimation  is  collected,  which  will  give  the  work  a  value  even  to 
those  who  posse.-.-.  the  beat  works  on  the  cultivation  of  fruit  yet  published."  —  /" 

POKt. 

"His  work  is  one  of  the  completes!,  and,  as  we  have  every  reason  for  bo^iuviag,  most 
accurate  to  bo  obtained  on  the  subject.  "  —  N.  Y.  Er,i,' 

"A  concise  Mannal  of  the  kind  hero  presented  ha*  Ions;  boon  w.intel.  an<l  we  will 
venture  to  say  that,  should  this  volume  be  carefully  studied  jiu.l  acted  upon  by  our  in 
dustrious  farmer*,  the  quantity  of  fruit  in  the  State  would  be  do'iMf!  in  live  y.-:ir-.  :ind  tha 
quality,  too,  ere.itly  improved.  Hero  may  bo  found  advice  suited  to  nTl  ernerjren- 
the  gentleman  farmer  may  llnd  direction  for  the  .'impli'.-t  matters,  :us  well  as  tliose  wlii^ii 
trouble  older  heads.  The  book,  we  think,  will  be  found  valuable."  —  -V-  mt,-lc  b>iil'j 
AdDertixer, 

"  It  is  full  of  directions  as  to  the  management  of  trees,  and  bud/,  and  fruits,  and  is  a 
valuable  and  pleasant  Cook."  —  AViany  Eceniiig  Jnurnul. 

"  The  work  is  prepared  with  'great  judgment,  and  founded  on  the  practical  experience 
of  the  Author—  is  of  far  icrc.Jer  \alue  to  the  cultivator  Uiaii  most  of  tiie  n'>;.uUr  comj.ihi- 
tionson  the  subji-cf—  N.  Y.  Tribune. 

This  I'.ofik   x»i>j  it!*'**  plat-e  in  fruit  cnltnre,  and  that  is  s:\ying  a  gn-nt  deal,  while  we 
have  the  popular  works  of   Downing,  Tiiomas,  and   Cole,      Mr.  liarry  ha- 
hi,:,  ,-!fwhi.:li  lie  occupies  with  decided  skiffand  ability.—  Prairi*  Farmer 

Among  tlid  many  works  which  within  a  few  yeirs  have  beer  brought  l>eforo  the  public 
lieei^netl  t<;  give  impulse  and  shape  to  practical  husbandry  and  hortictiltu,--. 

g  very  bcsl.     It  ougiit  to  be  in  e.ery  liuni'.. 
L'nited  States.—  AaMalul.; 


It  is  a  manual  that  ought  to  be  in  the  possession  of  every  m««i  that  owns  a  foot 
-Jf.  Y.  Observe- 

BotQ  to  the  active  fruit  grower  and  the  novice  in  Pomology,  this  book  will  be  founij 
Invtil  uable.—  ArUiur't  Uom«  Gazette. 


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